Fragments of a Malfoy
by SchuylerD
Summary: Draco reaches his breaking point after being introduced to The Malfoy Family Tradition. Will one of his greatest enemies be his salvation?
1. Chapter One: Shame

Fragments of a Malfoy

By Sky

schuywriter@livejournal.com

LJ: 

Sequel to Truly a Malfoy by SeverusLucius.

Rating: R

Pairing: LM/DM, DM/HG

Warning: Contains implied, non explicit non-consensual incest. Dark-fic; angst. 

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Potterverse is mine, but I did make up this plot without a plot. I don't own the characters or settings and I don't make money off of this. 

Summary: Draco reaches his breaking point after being introduced to "the Malfoy Family tradition". He has only one summer for redemption – will one of his greatest enemies be his salvation and help him put the pieces of his life back together?

A/N: This fic is the sequel to SeverusLucius's fic, "Truly a Malfoy" 

( ) This sequel is written with permission from SeverusLucius. All facts established in "Truly a Malfoy" will be considered fanon and remain unchanged in this story, though I do expand on some points.

My thanks to SeverusLucius for granting kind permission for me to use their plotline and continue Draco's story.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco Malfoy had been initiated into the "Malfoy family tradition" by his father when he was just turned sixteen years old. Until that time he had craved attention from his parents and had all but given up hope of ever receiving it. How he wished his despair had come to pass; for he did not expect the "affection" he received. His father raped him brutally that night at Malfoy Manor, with promises of more agony to come. It was the worst summer of his life. 

Upon his return to Hogwarts for the beginning of his sixth year, Draco was a changed boy—a man now by his father's standards. Even his henchmen toadies Crabbe and Goyle were more afraid of him than usual, choosing to hang back when they walked together and separating themselves from him when he practiced his new hobby of torturing small animals. He was darker, moodier, and crueler than he'd ever been before. During that year he started smoking pipeweed grown on the sly in the Hogwarts greenhouses. Instead of learning to make flowers bloom, he snipped at them with cutters and watched them shrink back in pain. Once, while repotting a baby Mandrake, the plant had nipped his finger and he twisted its stem until it choked to death. To add to his list of newfound troublemaking talents, he made sure to call Hermione Granger a "Mudblood" every time he saw her while sending her a sneer of hatred that left her visibly shaken.

His grades had suffered and he'd passed by the only the slimmest of margins when only a few months before he'd left his fifth year at the top of his class. He'd been kicked off the Slytherin Quidditch Team, something he thought no one would have the courage to do considering his father had secured him the position. After one game too many that ended with players seriously injured due to his recklessness, Headmaster Dumbledore had put a stop to the young Malfoy's sporting activities.

The year dragged on, Draco dreading every moment that brought him closer to going home. He insisted on staying at school over the Christmas break, sending his father an owl telling him an outrageous lie about a Quidditch scout being interested in recruiting him upon his leaving school. He'd impressed upon Lucius the seriousness of being able to train during the break, and was relieved to find a return owl from his mother granting his request with the assurance that since they were having guests over, Draco would probably be a nuisance anyway. No mention was made of Quidditch.

He knew what awaited him at the Manor that summer and he begged Dumbledore to allow him to stay at school. It was the first time he'd ever begged anyone for anything, and it made him more cross than ever. Unable to confide in Dumbledore the truth of why he didn't want to go home, he simply pleaded with the aged wizard. He offered to do extra credit studies, help in the greenhouse – anything. Anything to keep from going back to the madman who was his own flesh and blood -- the rapist who'd taken his sexual innocence and had violated him again and again twice a week until the boy returned to school. The rapes always took place in his father's bed, and always ended with Draco's forced "I love you." Draco almost believed his father; that was the worst part of it all. He very much wanted to believe in love.

"This is highly unusual, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore somberly as Draco stood before him. He looked into the boy's eyes and pondered for a moment. "But I will allow you to stay in school for the summer months if your parents allow it. My decision is conditional: bear in mind that you are to help in the greenhouse and on the grounds. We've lost quite a few plants this year due to your abuse." He stopped and looked over a scroll on his desk. "Your grades have fallen sharply, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore peered at Draco over his half-moon glasses as Draco felt a wince of embarrassment at his lack of academic excellence. "This surprises me," continued the elder wizard. "You have always been a top student."

Draco tried to keep his expression benign under Dumbledore's scrutiny. His initial reaction to criticism was to lash out, but he was in no position to do so if he wanted to be spared his father's "love". Then he recalled Dumbledore saying he needed his parents' permission. Would Lucius let him off the hook that easily? There was no way he could fake an owl to Dumbledore -- even if Draco tried it and it miraculously worked, Lucius would come straight to the school and abduct Draco himself if he really wanted to. Draco's only hope was his mother. 

Dumbledore spoke again. "You will be assigned a tutor to help you in the courses in which you need the most help: Herbology and Arithmancy. Fortunately for you, Miss Hermione Granger is staying at Hogwarts for the summer as well and might be available to aid you—"

"Granger?" Draco spat without thinking, his familiar scowl returning. "What's she doing here?"

"Do you have an objection to my requirements, Mr. Malfoy? Remember, I am doing you a service. It was you who asked my help."

Draco bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. How he wanted to rip the man's throat out! How dare he lay down such conditions? A voice in the back of Draco's mind whispered to him that Dumbledore was being kind; that even spending a summer with Granger was better than what lay in store at his home. Draco didn't want to hear that small voice, but he did. Impossible to ignore the reasoning, he obeyed the whisper grudgingly and painted a blank look on his face once again. "Yes, Headmaster. I apologize, Sir."

"Of course all of these plans depend on your parents agreeing to the terms. You are not yet considered an adult in the wizarding world, Draco. You will need this form signed and returned to me within one day." Dumbledore held out a scroll but Draco didn't move to take it. He shifted on his feet, his body language giving away his apprehension.

"Will there be a problem, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, Sir," answered Draco truthfully. "My parents -- they might not want me to stay. But I'm..." he paused and looked down at his shoes. 

"Afraid to go home?" Dumbledore finished for him.

Draco nodded. He didn't want to go into all of the disgusting details of why he was afraid. 

Dumbledore sighed sagely. "I feared as much." He paused, thinking. "Very well," he said. "If you are dedicated to your work here, you may stay and I will keep you from harm. I cannot with a clear conscience send one of my students into --" he stopped then. 

Draco was relieved that the Headmaster didn't finish his sentence. Just the fact that Dumbledore had acknowledged the possible danger at Malfoy Manor was more than enough. Draco wasn't about to volunteer any details.

Dumbledore took his quill and filled out a scroll that lay before him on the desk. When he was finished, he held it out to Draco. "Give this to Professor Snape. It is a pass that allows you to occupy the Head Boy's bedroom during your stay."

Draco took the scroll. Puzzled, he asked Dumbledore, "Why, Sir?"

"Why what, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Why are you letting me stay in the Head Boy's bedroom?"

"If you are able to bring your grades in Herbology and Arithmancy back up – and by that I mean you must pass your end of summer tests with perfect scores, you will be the seventh year Head Boy."

Draco was so shocked he couldn't speak. He opened his mouth but only a tiny squeak issued forth.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am well aware of your radical behavior this year. You have harmed a great many people in ways unknown to you before. I suspect that something has happened to cause this and I believe it can be remedied..."

Stupid Dumbledore, thought Draco. Doesn't he know I can't ever be redeemed? Not after—not after being tainted like that. I'm filthy now and I'll never be clean. 

"...I am giving you a chance, Draco. One chance. If you cannot believe in yourself, I will believe in you until you can. Use this summer to work out whatever it is that has caused this incredible downturn in your behavior among the students and Professors."

"Why are you doing this?" Draco managed in disbelief.

"Because it is down to this, Draco," said Dumbledore, standing and approaching the boy. He moved to put his hand on Draco's shoulder but Draco instinctively jumped back. Dumbledore surveyed him carefully before folding his arms in front of him. "You are capable of more than just this. If you are not able to rise to the rank of Head Boy, then I seriously believe your behavior will deteriorate and I will be forced to expel you from this school. Do you understand?"

Fear struck Draco like a bucket of ice water being splashed all over his body. He broke out in a cold sweat as he realized Dumbledore was right; he was getting worse and worse. The fires of his hatred were glowing brighter and stronger than ever in his life, and the one he hated most was the one whose love he most desperate for. Lucius. Not "the Malfoy tradition" – love. Pure and unconditional as it should be between parents and children. 

The panic that overtook Draco was not borne from the thought that he might never receive that love, though that was a small part of it. No, the fear rose because Dumbledore was the one giving Draco the thing he craved. Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in history, who could easily have crushed Draco like Draco crushed the plants in herbology, was giving him an opportunity for redemption and Draco hated him for it. He hated the pity, the kindness, the gentleness. And he almost cried out with the agony of his hate because he realized that within that ball of hatred lay a seed of love.

He nodded numbly that yes, he understood the terms. Dumbledore bowed his head and stared hard into Draco's steep gray eyes. He felt like Dumbledore was reading his soul. What if he could see all that had happened? Surely he couldn't, Draco thought as a new wave of panic washed over him. If Dumbledore could see it, his face didn't register the knowledge. He tilted his head back up, then turned back to his desk.

"Snape will give you your instructions tomorrow on helping in the greenhouse and he will also give you your summer class schedule. I suggest you move into the Head Boy's bedroom as soon as possible. I will speak with Miss Granger tonight. If she agrees to do this, your first tutoring session will be tomorrow afternoon. You are dismissed."

Draco stood still for a moment, absorbing everything that had just passed between them. Dumbledore went back to work at his desk and did not look up again, so Draco slowly turned and walked out of the office as silently as he could. Once in the hallway, he collapsed against a marble pillar, sank to the floor and wept his first tears of gratitude.  


	2. Chapter Two: Stasis

Chapter Two: Stasis

Draco moved his belongings into the Head Boy's private bedroom, a sprawling area almost the size of his former shared dorm room. Tapestries hung on the walls depicting great deeds of wizards past, and the bed was a high four-poster with a canopy of thick red draperies. On the floor next to the bed was a dark, polished wood stepstool. Regal, Draco thought. This room almost rivals my own at Malfoy Manor. 

Professor Snape had been hesitant about letting Draco move in so quickly, but had no choice but to obey Dumbledore, so Draco was to sleep in the most luxury he'd ever known at Hogwarts. I could get used to this, he thought. I'll have everyone eating out of my hand next year. He climbed into the bed and ran his palms over the hills and valleys of the green and silver brocade coverlet. Then he lay back and stared up at the canopy. Images unbidden rushed into his mind – him in a bed as rich and plush and this one, only not sleeping, not at rest. His father with him. Draco sat up and jumped off the bed as if it were on fire. He shivered slightly. 

Something inside him wanted to cry, but Draco pushed it down and back, hid it far away. He was not weak; he'd never let anyone see him as weak as he'd been with Lucius. Why had he allowed it? 

"I could have fought him," he said aloud. The remote idea occurred to him that maybe he didn't want to fight Lucius, maybe that night he wanted to give in and finally be part of the family. As twisted as it sounded, it was a tradition. His father had endured it; his father was strong enough. But then, his father also liked men, and Draco wasn't sure he would have chosen the same path before that night. The times he looked at Blaise with longing, he didn't quite understand. Was it sexual arousal or just the need for a brother, a friend? Was he transferring his loneliness and allowing himself to be taken in by anyone? No. He would not allow that. He liked girls – women. Of that fact he was absolutely certain. He hadn't yet decided what his attraction to boys meant, and thinking on it only made him more cross. He looked around for something to throw, something to break as he'd been broken. 

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door. Draco bottled his fury and stomped over to the door, throwing it open. "What?" he said, rage lingering in his voice.

"Enjoying your new room, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Professor Snape with his customary sneer. He looked beyond Draco and into the room as if he expected it to be ruined.

"It's fine, thank you, Professor," said Draco, purposefully softening towards his teacher. 

"Ahh, gratitude does you well, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, his eyes scanning Draco's. "The Headmaster has called for you."

Draco bristled. "I just came up from his office; I'm not finished unpacking—"

"Without delay, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape, turning on his heels and walking away brusquely. 

Draco cursed under his breath and wished he'd had time for a cigarette. He left the room and walked leisurely back to Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore met him outside, the older wizard's robes brilliant purple and flowing along the floor. 

"Ahh, Draco. Walk with me," said Dumbledore, moving past Draco and down the hall. Draco fell in step beside him and soon found it hard to keep up with the aged man. 

"You wanted to see me – again, Sir?" Draco prompted as they walked.

"It seems I have run into a bit of a problem arranging your summer courses. Miss Granger is very reluctant to tutor you."

Draco almost laughed out loud but caught himself. "I don't understand, Sir," he said, a bit too politely. That Mudblood refused to teach him? She had some nerve denying a Malfoy, he thought, curling his lip into a sneer.

"I suggest you wipe that grotesque grin off your face Mr. Malfoy. You are here due to my kindness, nothing more. It is to your benefit that you remember that."

"Yes, Sir," Draco said as his heart skipped a beat. Dumbledore didn't miss anything. Draco suddenly felt laid bare. He wondered if Dumbledore could read his thoughts.

"I've tried to persuade her but if she does not relent, I will look for an alternative or I may have to set you to more strenuous labor."

Strenuous labor? What did he mean? 

"You are already set to begin working in the greenhouse with Professor Sprout tomorrow morning at eight a.m., and you will do whatever she asks of you until noon. You will have one hour for lunch and I planned to have you work with Miss Granger on Herbology—"

"Excuse me, Headmaster," Draco interrupted. Dumbledore stopped walking and looked down at Draco, tucking his arms into the folds of his robes. 

"Yes, Draco?"

"What kind of 'strenuous labor' did you mean? I thought working in the greenhouse would be the extent of the physical aspect of this arrangement," he said eloquently. Draco felt chuffed with his own extensive vocabulary. His ego was about to be deflated a bit.

"Our 'arrangement', Draco, is that you are to do as you are asked, or you may spend the summer with your parents and whatever they have in store for you. I've sent an owl to your father detailing your academic failures and impressing upon him the need for you to commit your time to summer courses."

"You said 'summer courses' – I don't know of any classes that involve anything strenuous."

"I simply said that I might need to put you to work in a realm you are not accustomed to. But that will not be necessary if you can get Miss Granger to help you. You have not been a pleasant student, Mr. Malfoy. Not from the moment you stepped foot into this school. But this past year has taken its toll on everyone." The wizard leaned down and stared solemnly into Draco's gray eyes. "Including yourself."

"Me?" Draco asked incredulously. 

Dumbledore would not speak further. He turned and walked down the hallway. Draco rushed to catch up to him.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"To see Miss Granger. I have tried my best. It's your turn now." They stopped in front of the library. Dumbledore looked again into Draco's eyes, then turned silently and left him standing alone.

I'm not begging Granger to help me, thought Draco. I can do strenuous labor. I think. Blasted Dumbledore! Draco fumed outside the library for five straight minutes before gathering his wits about him. Finally, he pulled the door open and entered.

Immediately he heard the rustling of paper and the exasperated sigh of a young woman off to his right. He followed the sound, stepping quietly along the bookshelves until he came upon her. Hermione Granger. Mudblood witch. The female representative of all that was wrong with wizardkind sitting there poring over books almost as large as her own body while scribbling notes on a piece of parchment. She was unaware of his presence. Again, Draco gave himself a silent pat on the back for his skills in stealth as a grin formed on his lips.

Stupid little girl, he thought. Anyone could come upon her – she was completely vulnerable, open to attack. No one would be able to save her—

"I'm not helping you Malfoy, so you had better run along. I'm quite busy."

Draco's breath hitched in his throat. Hermione continued to look over her books, copying notes. He wouldn't be defeated that easily – she couldn't just make him go at her command. He was not a child to be ordered about. Still, he was at a loss for words.

"Are you deaf?" Hermione turned around and scowled at him. He didn't think he'd ever seen her so sour looking. His eyes widened at her brazen demeanor. She stood up and faced him and crossed her arms over her chest. The movement drew his eyes down and he suddenly felt that the library was far too cramped, too warm. He couldn't breathe. He swallowed hard and took a step backward. Hermione's expression morphed instantly from anger to curious concern. She cocked an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly to the side, studying his face. "Malfoy?" she asked. "Are you – all right?" 

Draco tried to shake the panic that rose within him and he bent forward slightly to allow more air into his lungs. He grabbed the edge of the nearest bookcase for support. "Fine," he coughed out. "I'm fine."

"You don't look very good," she said, assessing his pallid skin.

"You're no bird yourself, Granger," he spat, loosening his tie. 

"I mean you look ill, you prat. I was not taking inventory of your physical attractiveness," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I said I was fine. Are you deaf?" He emphasized the word just as she had and surprisingly it elicited a half-grin from her. She shook her head and sat back down.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking into her books again.

Draco took this as an invitation to join her at the table and he pulled a chair over and sat down across from her. "What are all these books?" he asked, poking through them.

"Don't touch them!" Hermione squealed, slapping his hand back. Draco leapt from his chair and leaned across the table, raising his hand to strike her back. He caught himself at the last second but Hermione pulled back from him so fast she fell from her chair and toppled onto the floor. In the same instant she'd had the presence of mind to grab her wand and now aimed it dangerously up at him. Their gazes locked. "And don't you ever," she panted, "touch me."

Draco's heart slammed against his chest as it beat wildly. He'd almost struck her. He'd never hit a girl before in his life. As much as he thought this Mudblood deserved it at times, it was just not something that was done. And he couldn't very well say he was sorry. That wasn't the Malfoy way. He simply stood, breathing just as hard as she was, locked in her fiery gaze, his hand still in mid-air. 

Before he knew it, the words formed on his lips. "I'm –"

They stared at each other for a moment longer as he struggled to find what he wanted to say. Then Draco glanced down at the woman almost literally at his feet, her gray pleated skirt pushed up to her thighs. A few more inches and—

"You're what? An idiot? A git?" Hermione raged, noting where he was looking at her and reaching down with one hand to put her clothing to rights.

"I-I'm.."

What was he saying? Why was he such a bumbling idiot all of a sudden? This was Granger -- the thorn in his side for years on end; the girl he dreamt about hexing a million different ways; the woman who had the very soft and creamy thighs and who filled out sweater quite nicely. Draco pulled a face at his own inner thoughts.

"Stop looking at me like that, Malfoy," Hermione demanded. Her wand still pointed at him but he noticed that it was quivering slightly.

Draco moved out from behind the table and walked around it. 

"I'm warning you, Malfoy!" she said loudly, obviously frightened now.

But Draco wasn't about to hurt her. In fact, he did something he'd never done in his life. He reached out his hand, the hand that almost struck her, and offered it to help her up.

"No, thank you," she said coldly, trying to keep her wand trained on him as she scrambled up. She winced in pain as she took to her feet.

"You're hurt," Draco said dumbly.

"It's nothing a quick spell won't cure. Now I suggest you leave me be and don't come back, Malfoy. Or Madame Pomfrey won't be able to put you back together."

The tone in her voice told him she meant business. He didn't really think she'd do anything, but right now she didn't trust him and he'd given her no reason to. He'd come to ask for help and he'd ended up despairing of convincing her to aid him in any way, even if his life depended on it. Which it might very well for all he knew. 

He turned away from her and exited, forgetting even to sneer at her on his way out. His mind was troubled with a great many things, the least of which was how and when he'd stopped seeing Hermione Granger as a little girl and started seeing her as a capable, attractive young woman.


	3. Chapter Three: Incubation

Chapter Three: Incubation

An owl from Lucius Malfoy made its appearance the next day, casting Draco into a pit of anxiety. As he stood once again in Dumbledore's office, he ruminated on the fact that he'd been in that room more times in the past two days than in all his years at Hogwarts combined. It was almost comfortable and felt safe, somehow. 

Dumbledore frowned at Draco from his desk. "Mr. Malfoy I have heard of your inability to convince Miss Granger to help you with your Arithmancy studies. I have taken the liberty of asking Professor McGonagall, who is here for the next three weeks only, to try and help you." 

Draco looked up at the wizard with anticipation. Did this mean he could stay for the summer? 

"Your father, however, has asked that you be sent home after your short tutoring session has ended." 

Draco's heart fell. He swallowed hard and tried to put on a game face, knowing all the while that it was no use trying to pretend anything around his Headmaster. 

"I do not know if you will be able to accomplish what you need to do in only three weeks, so I will send correspondence back to your parents asking to allow you to stay the duration of the summer. I am hard pressed, Draco, to come up with a reason to keep you here. Do you understand?" 

The Slytherin was confused. "No, Sir," he answered truthfully. 

"Since your parents are holding a social function this week and the next, they are occupied. But once these functions commence and are completed, Lucius requests your presence at Malfoy Manor." The aged wizard paused and reflected. "There is a reason you do not want to go home, and I suspect it is to do with Lucius, does it not?" 

Draco hung his head. "Yes, Sir." 

"Very well. I will do my best. Take this schedule." Dumbledore handed Draco a piece of parchment with instructions for his daily courses. Draco looked it over. 

"There must be some mistake, Sir. You have here that I am to wake at six bells." 

"That is correct. You must wake earlier than you normally would because Draco, this is not a normal school year. The rules you see, are slightly different than what you would expect," the old man said cryptically. Draco had the feeling Dumbledore was imparting some wisdom but he just wasn't picking up on it. 

Thinking it pointless to argue, Draco waited to be dismissed. 

"If I am not mistaken," Dumbledore said with a slight smile, "you are expected in the greenhouse in five minutes. You are dismissed." 

Draco left the office and headed to the greenhouses. Five minutes? He scrutinized the parchment. Indeed it listed his appointment with Professor Sprout but gave no indication of the prescribed activity he would be partaking in. 

When he arrived at the greenhouse he saw Hermione Granger talking with Professor Sprout next to one of the long tables. Great leaves hung down and spidery vines clung to the walls, seeking sunlight. He ducked under the hanging foliage, pushing it out of his way as he moved further into the humid room. He approached as quietly as he had in the library the day before, and neither woman was aware of his presence until he stepped out into the aisle, just behind Hermione. She'd just finished speaking with the professor and turned to go when she ran right into Draco, dropping a book near his feet. He didn't miss the blush that rose in her cheeks as her body pressed up against his for that half-second. She pulled away quickly and reached down to grab her book, but Draco was faster this time. He swept the book from the soil-speckled floor and brushed it off on his robes. Silently he held it out to her, never breaking eye contact. 

"Thank you," she said, and exited without another word. 

Draco didn't have time to ponder what had just occurred between them, so he filed it in his mind for later analysis. All at once, the booming voice of Professor Sprout was upon him and he shrank back slightly. 

"Mister Malfoy," Professor Sprout enunciated clearly, "You are late!" 

"I was in Dumbledore's office; he only just gave me this revised schedule of courses." He showed her the parchment and she nodded slightly. 

"Right. Let's get you started, then. Change your clothing - you don't want to ruin your uniform and robes now, do you? Of course not. Today we're going to repot baby Mandrakes. You remember the Mandrake don't you Mister Malfoy? You've murdered enough of them." Professor Sprout was in a foul mood and more tetchy than usual. Draco had grown accustomed to her being a bit of a pushover but something flickered in her eyes as she said the word "murdered" that made him remember what Dumbledore had told him. Nothing would be as he expected. 

He changed into his Herbology cloak and plucked a pair of earmuffs from a shelf. Professor Sprout waved him over to a table at the far side of the room. 

"You will repot each of these, Mister Malfoy," she instructed ruefully. 

"How many are there?" 

"There are fifty in total Mister Malfoy and I expect you to have them all done by lunchtime. And remember to cover the babies with soil or they'll catch cold and become ill. I know you wouldn't want that to happen, would you?" She eyed him suspiciously. 

"No, Professor," he said obligingly. 

"Don't forget to keep those earmuffs on and keep them tightly fastened. I won't have you passing out on me. There will be a sign outside the greenhouse so that anyone wanting to come in will know that there's dangerous work being done in here. I've left some spare earmuffs for any visitors, but you shouldn't be having any." 

"Yes, Professor." 

Professor Sprout narrowed her eyes and lifted a finger, wagging it at him as she spoke. "Watch that attitude, son. I won't be having any of it. When I return, those plants had better be in tip top condition!" 

"You won't be here?" asked Draco hopefully. Maybe he could sneak a smoke while the barmy old witch was away. 

"Not today I'm afraid. I will be tomorrow, though and I'll know everything that goes on. I've got eyes and ears that you can't see, Mister Malfoy," she said. With that, she waddled out of the greenhouse. 

"Eyes and ears I can't see?" he said to the plants. "What is she on about?" He turned to the Mandrakes. "Eyes and ears on her fat arse, more like," he said, scowling at the little blighters. He pulled on his gloves and got down to it. 

Two hours later, Draco was still repotting the Mandrakes. Taking a break, he yanked off his gloves fished a cigarette from the inner pocket of his school robes. He set about finding his wand to set the tip of the joint alight when he heard a rustle of leaves. Someone had entered. He hurriedly shoved the unlit cigarette back into his pocket and looked around. It couldn't be Sprout, thought Draco. I'd have heard her right away the way she stomps about. He heard the gentle rustle again and sneaked around the table, pulling off his earmuffs. He still had thirty-six more Mandrakes to repot but the ones he'd finished were silent and snuggled deep in their new soil. 

Hermione Granger came into his view wearing the earmuffs Professor Sprout had left outside and walking carefully to the spot where she and Draco had bumped into each other. He traced her movements as she looked around the floor, apparently searching for something. He lost sight of her as she bent down beneath the tables and leaned down to see what she was doing. With the earmuffs on, she wouldn't hear him at all, but he knew better than to assume she didn't know he was still there. 

She got down onto her hands and knees and peered under the far tables. As she shifted, Draco was treated to a view of her backside; her skirt rose just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her upper thighs as she leaned her upper body closer to the ground. Draco's mouth hung open and he dared not blink lest he miss a moment of the entertainment the young witch provided. His breathing labored and his eyelids feeling a bit on the heavy side, Draco himself sank to his knees and crawled toward her slowly. His hands came into contact with bits of soil, moss, vermiculite and stray cuttings, but he didn't care. He moved toward her like a great cat stalking its prey. 

Hermione shifted again and Draco scrambled under a table to keep out of sight. His foot hit an object and it slid across the floor. A book. She must have had two books with her when we collided, he thought. He sank back under a table covered with overflowing fern leaves and held his breath for a moment in the dusty shade. Hermione needed only to turn right a few degrees and she'd see the book and be on her way. Suddenly Draco realized he didn't want her to go. 

He hadn't felt any kind of serious attraction to a girl or a boy since last summer, since Lucius. The sex drive that had plummeted after that traumatic event was now back in full force. Is this what it feels like to really crave someone? And why do I crave...her? Draco rationalized his feelings by assuring himself that it was just guilt and his attraction to Hermione was some kind of internal punishment. Why else would he want a Mudblood so badly? Something in him deserved the worst, he reasoned. He was the worst, and so it was only fitting that he be further degraded in desiring something almost as unfathomable as the unholy desire his father felt for him. 

Draco looked at his hands. Filth. I'm filth. She's filth. Of course. That makes sense. 

But something even deeper inside Draco fought to surface; he pushed it back. No, that thought was even more disgusting. The thought that yes, he did deserve her, but not because he was so bad. Because he had the capacity to be good. And she was pure, not mud after all. The thought brought bile into his throat and he swallowed hard. His arousal dissipated, he grit his teeth, crawled out from under the table and confronted the girl on the floor. 

"Your book's right there you prissy Mudblood," he said, venom dripping in his voice. His words were lost on Hermione as she still had the earmuffs on. Draco strode over to the book, picked it up and proceeded to shove it right into Hermione's face while also yanking off her earmuffs. She jumped back with a shriek, then stood to face him. 

"What are you doing?" she demanded. 

"Just giving you your stupid book back, what do you think?" 

"I didn't know you were still here. Where's Professor Sprout?" She scanned the room quickly before realizing her Professor had left Draco alone. 

Draco smirked as he saw the familiar flash of fear in her eyes. "Went out." 

"She left you here alone with the plants? With the Mandrakes?" Hermione asked incredulously. 

"What, do you think I can't repot those bloody buggers myself? I don't need any help," he said, sticking his chin up so he could look down at her. "What do you take me for anyway, Granger? 

"It would be impolite to use such language so I shall refrain from answering that question, Malfoy," she said, her eyes glittering with hatred. 

This is more like it, thought Draco. Me treating her like shite, her lashing back at me. It was comfortable somehow. He knew exactly what to expect. Dumbledore wasn't always right about everything; there were things Draco could still control. 

"Please yourself," he said, a sneer curling his lips. 

"I will," she said and turned to go. 

"Where are you going?" he asked, stepping after her. 

"What do you care?" 

"I don't." 

"Then why are you following me?" 

"I'm not," he insisted, even though he was on her heels all the way to the greenhouse door. 

Hermione whirled on her heel and stopped dead. Draco didn't bother trying to catch himself as he fell into her for the second time that day. He caught the scent of her hair - lavender? - for a split second before she brought both hands up to his chest and heaved him down onto the floor. He landed hard and winced in pain, but jumped right back up. 

"I told you not to touch me, Malfoy!" she said, her voice strong and loud. 

"I didn't!" 

"What did you call that, then?" 

"What?" 

"You're playing at something. I don't know what, but I am not a pawn on a chessboard. If you keep this up you can just forget about passing your courses and go home to your father and mother where you really belong." 

Her words cut him to the quick. His eyes widened as a mixture of embarrassment, fury, shame, and regret filled him. He looked into her brown eyes and saw that she knew her words had affected him. Hermione Granger had one over on Draco Malfoy. Had Dumbledore told her why Draco didn't want to go home? 

"What do you know about it?" he said in a very controlled voice. 

"About what?" 

Ahh. She didn't know; she didn't know anything at all. He was safe. "Nothing," he replied, trying to make it sound like he harbored an ominous secret. An uncomfortable silence passed between them until finally she spoke. 

"I won't help you, Malfoy." 

"I didn't ask you to," he replied, turning away. He walked slowly towards the table of Mandrakes still needing repotting, halting for a moment when he heard the slam of the greenhouse door. Then he went back to work.


	4. Chapter Four: Inquisition

Fragments of a Malfoy

By SchuylerD

sky@pensieve.org

Sequel to Truly a Malfoy  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: LM/DM, DM/HG  
Warning: Contains non-consensual incest. Dark-fic; angst.   
Summary: Draco reaches his breaking point after being introduced to "the Malfoy Family tradition". He has only one summer for redemption – will one of his greatest enemies be his salvation and help him put the pieces of his life back together?

Sequel to "Truly a Malfoy" by SeverusLucius.  
A/N: This fic is the sequel to SeverusLucius's fic, "Truly a Malfoy," This sequel is written with permission from SeverusLucius. All facts established in "Truly a Malfoy" will be considered fanon and remain unchanged in this story, though I do expand on some points. My thanks to SeverusLucius for granting kind permission for me to use their plotline and continue Draco's story.

Shout out to Pixyzombie for fun Im'ing during the creation of this! 2376!  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Four: Inquisition

Draco spent the next three days working in the greenhouse and every day Hermione would come in, talk briefly to Professor Sprout, and leave without so much as glancing at him. He repotted Mandrakes until his ears ached from the constant pressure of the earmuffs. He was desperate to do some other kind of work – anything but stand by this table day after day with his hands in dirt. 

Professor Sprout stayed with him each day; she putzed about the greenhouse talking to the plants and Draco could have sworn she had some kind of relationship with them and could speak to them in an odd plant language. She never mentioned anything to him about the incident with Hermione only days earlier, so Draco figured she really didn't have "spies" in the greenhouse as threatened.

The work was helpful; being occupied helped Draco feel a bit more like himself again – who he used to be before the previous summer. He caught himself almost enjoying the ache in his muscles as he lay down to sleep at night in his titanic bed. Sleep came easily now; he'd curl up on his right side with a pillow tucked under his head and drift into a world of dreams only moments later. He could not remember his dreams but he knew he'd had them because upon waking, a vague sense of disturbance niggled at his subconscious. Was it Lucius the center of it? Or could it be Hermione? Draco couldn't yet tell.

As he dressed for another day in the greenhouse, he wondered what business Hermione had with Professor Sprout day after day. He wasn't brave enough to come out and just ask her and she probably wouldn't tell him anyway. Still, the curiosity grew until he simply had to know. Potter wasn't at school as far as Draco could tell; he hadn't seen any students besides himself, Hermione, three Hufflepuffs and one Ravenclaw. The Hufflepuffs were always in Quidditch gear when Draco saw them so he assumed they were spending the summer training. But why would Hermione be there? Wouldn't she stay with her parents like usual? And why would Potter not be around to act as her supreme protector as always? The plot grew thicker as Draco pondered it all. 

On his way downstairs, Draco passed Professor Snape in the hallway. 

      "Professor Snape?" he asked.

      "What is it, Malfoy?" said Snape with his usual monotone. He always appeared to be in a hurry and today was no different. His eyes told Draco that he was not happy with being interrupted form his business.

      "I was wondering—could I ask you something?"

      "Spit it out, Malfoy I don't have all day."

      "Do you know why Hermione Granger is in school for the summer?" Snape's eyes narrowed and Draco felt a pang of fear that he'd asked the wrong question. He hurried tried to cover his mistake. "And the Hufflepuffs – are they training for Quidditch?"

      "That is their business, Mr. Malfoy. I suggest you ask them." With that, he swept off down the corridor.

      Back to the beginning, thought Draco. He needed a cigarette to get him through the long day ahead. Taking a look around, he sneaked out behind the greenhouse and pulled a fag from his pocket. Using his wand to light it was awkward at best. He put the fag in his mouth and pointed his wand at the tip. "Lacanum inf—"

"What are you doing?" a voice shouted. Draco turned to find Hermione Granger running towards him. She grabbed the wand out of his hand. "Do you want to set your head on fire?"

"Give it here, Granger," he said none too politely. 

"No. Anyway, smoking isn't allowed; you know that."

"I don't sodding care, Granger, now give us the wand!" He lunged for it and Hermione stepped back, holding the wand aloft. She was shorter than he and obviously hadn't counted on his longer arms and graceful fingers. He grabbed the wand from her hand, their fingers touching for a split second. In that second, their eyes locked and Draco felt almost a sizzling sensation in his fingertips, akin to a spark. He wondered if the wand had backfired and quickly looked to see if anything was on fire. No, that wasn't it. The sizzling in his fingers turned into warmth that spread to his shoulders and moved lower. Realizing he was experiencing the beginnings of arousal, he quickly turned away from Hermione and pretended to look for the fag that had fallen from his mouth. "Sod it, Granger, where's me fag?"

      "You just stepped on it," came her answer. 

      "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, looking under his shoe. He picked up the mangled cigarette and looked back at her with what he hoped was a poisonous glance.

      "You shouldn't have been trying to smoke on school grounds, anyway." She paused. "Why do you smoke?"

      "It relaxes me," he explained.

      "Books relax me," she replied. "And they don't cause anyone to catch on fire and don't pose any unnecessary hazards and—"

      "Right!" he grumbled. The erection was fading now that Hermione was arguing with him. He felt safe facing her again but when he did he caught his breath. 

      "What?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest and shifting her weight onto her left foot. 

      Draco blinked. Had she been wearing that before? Hermione wasn't in her school uniform or any kind of clothing he'd ever seen her in. Ahh, he thought. It must be Muggle clothing. "What are you wearing?" he blurted out.

      She looked down at herself, then back up at him. "Clothing. You've seen it before."

      "Is that...Muggle clothing?"

      "Yes, it's Muggle clothing. Dumbledore gave me permission to wear 'whatever was comfortable' this summer. Are you going to tell me how disgusted you are that a witch should wear such garments and shame the name of 'witch' now?"

      Draco stared. He knew he was staring but couldn't stop. Hermione's light jumper was of a fabric he'd never seen--it was almost fluffy or...fuzzy. The pale tone of it made her cheeks seem rosier as the hue reflected up onto her face in the sunlight. She almost glowed. He also couldn't help noticing how flatteringly the jumper accentuated her breasts, clinging to every soft curve. He didn't know when girls stopped developing, but if she stopped right now, he'd be more than satisfied. She wasn't extremely busty, but he liked what he saw. Very much. Draco silently cursed the long black school robes they were always forced to wear in class. 

      His gaze hadn't even traveled down to her form fitting trousers when he heard her cough slightly. 

      "Malfoy. I'm up here," she said. 

      He looked up at her, suddenly extremely embarrassed. Shite! I was standing here staring at her breasts and she knows it! Shite! He tried to play it off. "Ah, yes, of course," he said, groaning inwardly at his ineloquence.

      To his surprise, Hermione sported a bemused smile. She shook her head slightly; jostling the sun kissed chestnut waves that ran from her crown to her shoulder blades. Draco's eyes widened as he realized she wasn't angry with him. She of course had every right to be. What was he thinking? She had every right to be? No she did not. She was a Mudblood, and Mudbloods don't deserve anything! His father's voice loomed in the back of his memory as he recalled the rote teachings of his childhood. Mudbloods shame the name of 'wizard'. Mudbloods and Muggles should be exterminated.

      Draco shook off the unpleasant memories. Concern registered on Hermione's face and Draco forced himself to train his gaze on her eyes. He wanted very much to look at her chest again, but surmised that she would not stand for such brazenness and she might walk away. And much to his horror, Draco did not want her to go away. 

      "What are you doing at Hogwarts?" they asked simultaneously. Hermione smiled again and Draco fought the urge to join in her mirth.

After a moment's silence wherein Hermione looked her shoe and 

Draco did the same (a black sandal with a delicate silver buckle), Hermione finally spoke. "What are you doing here?"

      "I asked you first," he answered.

      Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him and turned up the corner of her mouth in a half grin. "Did you just make a joke, Malfoy?"

      Draco shrugged.

      "I'm studying...as usual. Did you really need to ask?" she said, her voice sounding resigned and just a bit tired.

      "Studying what?" he probed.

      "It's something for Herbology. I'm sure after spending all day in the greenhouse you wouldn't be interested in hearing about it."

      "It has to be done here? Now? All summer?" He was shooting off questions to her, suddenly needing to know everything.

      "Well, I'm also conducting an experiment, but it's very—" she paused, obviously uncomfortable. "It's a private matter."

      A 'private experiment'? Draco was intrigued. "What sort of 'experiment'?" he asked nonchalantly, as if the matter weren't already burning in his mind.

      "I'm not at liberty to discuss it. But I can talk to you about the Herbology project," she answered. 

      "You're all right," he replied, not interested in more talk of plants. Draco Malfoy, he counseled himself, you are having a civil conversation with Hermione Granger. You have to be barmy. There's just no other way. They're going to lock you up right alongside Professor Lockhart. 

      "What are you doing here?" she volleyed the question back at him and he knew he had no answer to give.

      "I'm..."

      "Don't you know?"

      "Yes. Of course," he fumbled with his words, his brain racing.

      "Were your parents too busy?"

      Parents? Yes. Too busy. Very busy parents, no time for their son. Make it sound good. "Right. The parents. They're having guests and all..." 

      "That's unfortunate," she said.

      Draco felt a pang in his stomach reminding him of how wrong Hermione really was with that statement. Guests kept Lucius busy – he could be fucking them instead of his own son. The thought of Lucius darkened Draco's demeanor and he scowled without even realizing it. "What about your parents?" he countered.

      "I had to beg them to let me stay at Hogwart's this summer. They wanted me to go with them to Bali, but I thought they could enjoy their second honeymoon together more without me around."

      "What's a honeymoon?" Draco blurted. Stupid Muggle expressions, he thought angrily. He hated having to ask what things meant—it showed weakness. He watched Hermione's face (don't look down, keep staring into her eyes, or at her nose – or her mouth. No, don't look at her mouth. Bloody hell!) and saw that a slight blush had risen to her cheeks. 

      "A honeymoon is a time that a man and a woman spend together right after they're married," she explained, not without embarrassment. Her self-consciousness was completely lost on Draco since he hadn't yet picked up on the nuances of what the word "honeymoon" really meant. "It's usually a week or two and..."

      "And?"

      "Most children are conceived during that time. I was."

      Now it was Draco's turn to grow red in the face.

      "Are you – blushing?" Hermione peered at him closely and burst out laughing. "Draco Malfoy – blushing! I didn't think I'd ever see the day!"

      Filled with rage at this Mudblood witch laughing at him just because he didn't know her stupid Muggle customs, Draco moved toward her. He didn't know what he was going to do when they touched; he just wanted to shut her up. The sound of her laughter infuriated him. Instead of raising his hand to her or casting a spell with his wand, Draco turned on her, held her upper arms tightly, and backed her up against the wall of the greenhouse. His face was so close to hers he could feel her shock and the quickness of her breath coming in warm puffs against his face. Her eyes were dark and wild, opened wide at this sudden attack. No words or sound came from her mouth. Her mouth. Draco allowed himself to give in for an instant and focus on her lips. Slightly parted, her lips were rosy without needing cosmetic charms. They looked silky and soft, and Draco wondered how her lips would feel under his. His body pressed up against her, holding her in place, Draco felt himself physically respond to her warmth and nearness.

      Neither of them spoke. It was almost as if Hermione were waiting for something to happen. Draco was surprised that she didn't try to scream or even push him away. Encouraged by her passivity, he pressed into her a bit harder, eliciting a sudden short intake of breath from the young woman. 

He'd silenced her laughter, but now what? What did he want to do next? He looked into her eyes again, unblinking; holding her gaze, trapping her. His lips were so close to hers he could feel the heat emanating from her skin. The feel of her breath on his lips intoxicated him and his eyelids grew heavy. He moved closer, just a fraction...

"MALFOY!" a voice screeched. Draco nearly jumped out of his skin as his sensual trance was broken. A hand descended upon his shoulder and a sudden yank ripped him from Hermione, who ducked and ran off around the greenhouse toward the castle doors. Draco was spun around to face an enraged Professor Sprout. He's never seen her face look so red.

"Just what do you think you were doing? You are not only fifteen minutes late for your work in the greenhouse but you've been trying to scandalize one of Hogwart's best students! Dumbledore will hear of this!" She glanced down and Draco watched her face grow even redder. He followed her gaze and saw the crushed and forgotten fag lying next to his wand on the ground. "Smoking? You were smoking? Near my precious plants? You could have killed them all! They're very sensitive to smoke—" she paused and grit her teeth. "Right. Straight to Dumbledore."

"But Profess—"

"No words, Mr. Malfoy, I'm warning you," she hissed. "Not one word."


	5. Chapter Five: Enraptured

Chapter Five: Enraptured  
  
Draco and Hermione stood before Dumbledore's desk, awaiting the verdict on their behavior. Draco dared not risk a glance toward the young woman, lest Dumbledore get the wrong impression. Professor Sprout stood behind the two as if she were a guard to make sure neither one escaped the ominous room. She rambled on in a somewhat controlled fury as Dumbledore peered silently over the top of his half moon glasses.  
  
"...and he was SMOKING!" Sprout said, producing the offending cigarette and holding it between the students so Draco could catch the sight from the corner of his eye.  
  
"I see," said Dumbledore calmly. "Thank you, Professor Sprout. Please leave me to deal with the children. You may go."  
  
A pang of disgust ripped through Draco at being called a child. He held himself in check and stood straight with his chin up in a manner befitting a Malfoy. Professor Sprout mumbled a bit as she left the room but Dumbledore bore her no attention.   
  
"Miss Granger, did Mr. Malfoy at any time attack you this morning?" he asked.  
  
Without hesitation Hermione replied, "No, Sir."  
  
"Did you witness Mr. Malfoy smoking?"  
  
"No, Sir."  
  
Draco's eyes widened. What was she doing?  
  
Dumbledore looked at Hermione intently for a moment. "Did you see Mr. Malfoy attempt to smoke, Miss Granger?" he asked.  
  
Draco had to smirk. Nothing was lost on Dumbledore. Perhaps his father had been wrong about Dumbledore being an idiot. He sure seemed to know which questions to ask and how to read people. From the corner of his eye Draco saw Hermione's chin drop a fraction.  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
She'd seemed almost reluctant to turn him in. He'd have thought Granger would have gladly served his head on a platter when faced with such incriminating evidence against her nemesis. But perhaps he wasn't just a nemesis anymore. The thought gave Draco pause and he didn't immediately hear the question Dumbledore had put to him.   
  
"Mr. Malfoy, your answer?"  
  
Draco looked up at the aged wizard, then over at Hermione. "I'm sorry, Sir," he said, looking back to Dumbledore. "I missed the question."  
  
"I asked if you had touched Miss Granger this morning."  
  
What could he say? He could lie and say no, but lying to Dumbledore was useless. If he said yes, it would go against what Hermione had said earlier. He breathed in deeply. "Yes, Sir."  
  
"In what way did you touch her, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
The questions were becoming uncomfortable and reminiscent of the ones his Father had asked him in bed once. Draco recalled those moments in the back of his mind. (Now, Draco, did you like that? Did it feel good? Tell me how it felt to-)  
  
"Draco?" Hermione asked, puzzled.  
  
The sound of her voice brought him back to Dumbledore's office. He turned to Hermione who now wore a mask of concern.   
  
"Headmaster, I don't think he's well," Hermione said, furrowing her brow.   
  
"What is the matter, Draco? Are you feeling ill?" the great wizard asked.  
  
Draco had broken out in a cold sweat. All of a sudden he felt like he was smothering. He leaned forward to catch some air and Hermione immediately grabbed him to hold him steady. She helped him into a nearby chair as Dumbledore came down from his desk to tend to his student.   
  
"Mr. Malfoy is hyperventilating - not to worry. I will take care of this," said Dumbledore, producing his wand.  
  
"Sir, I can assure you that Malfoy didn't hurt me in any way and he didn't do anything to endanger me. We were talking - I saw him with the cigarette and told him not to light it. He didn't. That's all. I'm sorry I made him late for his class," Hermione said quickly.  
  
Dumbledore cast a charm on Draco that made his body immediately relax. He sat in the chair like a rag doll, limp and tired. He was thankful for the charm because Hermione's words had almost sent him into shock. He tried to will the young witch to look at him but she kept her eyes averted once she knew he was all right. Something about Hermione Granger speaking up for him to the Headmaster felt very wrong.  
  
"I see," said Dumbledore, returning to his desk. "I would like to remind Mr. Malfoy that cigarettes are not allowed in school and if you are caught in possession of any kind of drugs you will be sent home immediately. You must uphold the conditions of your stay here, Mr. Malfoy. You are both dismissed."  
  
Draco sighed in relief and tried to stand but his legs were still feeling a bit rubbery. What had caused the attack of panic that has swept through him and made his skin crawl? For once it wasn't Granger or any of her goody-goody friends. He shrugged off the unpleasant thoughts and found a hand thrust into his face. Hermione stood before him, offering him aide in standing.  
  
"I'll help you get to the greenhouse," she said simply.  
  
Draco didn't recognize the voice or the word that came out of his mouth in reply. "Thanks."  
  
Hermione shook her head a bit to move a bit of the long waves that had fallen into her face. Draco immediately had the urge to reach up and touch her hair but stifled it as he tentatively took her hand. Again, the sparks shot through him at her mere touch. He wondered if she felt it, and for a brief second thought he saw some kind of reaction in her face but then it was gone. She eased him up gently and helped him into the hallway. He tried to pull away from her once they'd started walking toward the greenhouse, but Hermione held on.  
  
"You can let go, I'm all right now," he assured her. He didn't really want her to let go but he was terrified not only that they'd be seen, but that he would also enjoy being close to her a bit too much. Already he felt the sweat on his palms as the proximity to her took its toll. If he didn't disengage from her grasp he'd be walking funny and it'd have nothing to do with feeling weak. He yanked his robes around him, covering himself just in case the inevitable happened.  
  
"No, I'll help," she said gently, urging him along. "What happened to you back there?"  
  
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "Why-" Should he ask it? "Why did you tell Dumbledore that nothing had happened?"  
  
Hermione stopped and looked at him. "I didn't say that. I told him the truth."  
  
"But you said that-"  
  
"I know what I said. Can we drop it?" her voice took on a tone of exasperation and Draco knew he would not be getting any more information out of her about the subject. Hermione seemed to be walking a bit faster now than she had been before.  
  
"Slow down, Granger, I'm recovering from a nasty spell, you know," he said with a sneer, uncomfortable at being hurried along to face Professor Sprout once again.   
  
"You're always nasty, Malfoy," she shot back. This was more like it -- the old Granger, bitchy and haughty as ever. This, he understood.  
  
"And you're always a bitch," he halfheartedly mumbled, just to get a rise out of her.   
  
"And you're a -" she stopped and pushed him away. Draco lost his balance for a second but grabbed onto a sconce and stayed upright against the wall. He waited breathlessly for her insult; he was beginning to enjoy this.  
  
"I'm a what?" he prompted.  
  
"You're a - toad!" she said, pursing her lips and folding her arms across her chest.  
  
"Is that the best you can do?" he said, wincing. "You've got to try harder than that."  
  
Hermione's face colored as she fumed with anger. Draco loved the look in her eyes - she was trying so hard to hate him but something told him she wasn't quite capable of true hatred. He'd seem hate enough times in his father's eyes. His father. The remembered emotion he'd seen on his father's face welled up inside him now. He was sick of playing games. Why was he being so nice to her? And by calling her a bitch, he did think he was being nice. He hadn't even called her a Mudblood.   
  
"Well?" He pushed her again for a proper insult.  
  
"You're a prat, Malfoy!"   
  
"A prat, then?" he said, looking thoughtfully up at the wall, then shaking his head. "No, that won't do. What would you call me if I said you, Granger are a filthy whore?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.  
  
She stared at him in stunned silence.  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"I would say you're a -"  
  
"What? What am I, Granger?"  
  
"You're a fucker!"  
  
Draco would have burst out laughing if it weren't for the fact Hermione Granger had just uttered the word "fuck" in front of him. The word affected him physically as well as mentally. He pushed off the wall and lunged at her, grabbing her in an embrace.  
  
"You think I'm a fucker, Hermione?" He looked into her eyes and saw genuine fear reflecting back at him. "You think I won't hurt you? Is that it? You're playing with fire, little girl. Suck up to Dumbledore all you want," he hissed, his mouth just centimeters from hers. "I'm not who you seem to think I am. Or maybe...I'm exactly who you think I am." He smirked maliciously.   
  
The game had gone too far. What started out as jovial had now moved into a darkness Draco wasn't sure he could control or escape from.   
  
"Who are you?" she whispered. Her question caught him off guard and he had no answer. He moved his head back, away from hers just a bit and looked down into her brown eyes, laden with apprehension. He held her so tightly to him he could feel her heart pounding.  
  
"A Malfoy," he replied finally. "No more, no less."  
  
Hermione shook her head, quivering slightly. "No," she said.   
  
No? What was she on about, disagreeing with his own assessment of himself, his bloodline, his legacy? Draco pulled her down the hallway and thrust her into a secluded and dark alcove. "You said I'm a fucker," he said, his voice dripping venom. "Who is it you think I've fucked?" He chose his words carefully; each question served to frighten her and arouse him further. He pressed her against the wall just as he had only a couple of hours before. "No one's here, Hermione," he said as he grabbed her wrists and held them over her head. He positioned himself so that she would not be able to knee him in the groin or kick at him. "It's dark, it's private," he continued, unsure of where he was going with this. "Who do you think I've fucked?"  
  
His words had a visible affect on her - he enjoyed the way his prey breathed heavily, the way her eyelids grew heavier, the way she stopped struggling against him and simply let him pin her to the wall. She was playing games, all right. She was playing with fire and she was going to get burned, that was a given. He enjoyed toying with her.  
  
"Let me go, Malfoy," she said, her voice quavering.  
  
"Are you going to tell Dumbledore about this?" he asked.  
  
She looked into his steel gray eyes and he saw something worse than hate in them - he saw pity. "About what?" she asked. "Nothing's happened, as far as I'm concerned."  
  
"What are you playing at, Hermione?" he asked, sincere this time.  
  
"I'm not playing," she said, looking down.   
  
He closed whatever remaining space there was between their bodies so that she could feel his arousal on her thigh. A whisper of a moan sounded in her throat. Draco pushed against her sensuously once more, enjoying the friction. The emotional barrier between them fell and Draco felt extremely vulnerable as he moved against her. Hermione's eyes were shut tightly and her hair hung down and obscured most of her face from his gaze. He held both of her wrists with his right hand while he moved the fingers of his left hand down through her hair. Pulling the chestnut strands from her face, he lifted her chin slightly.   
  
"Look at me," he ordered.  
  
The small sliver of light afforded him a look into her eyes as she looked up at him, panting. Her lips were slightly parted, beautiful and inviting. He moved against her once more, straining painfully in his trousers underneath his robe. He pushed the robe aside and positioned himself a bit lower, so that he could graze the juncture of her thighs. She hitched in a breath and closed her eyes again. It was at that moment he could stand it no more; he pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss. Hermione's lips seemed burning hot under his and he advanced his tongue tentatively, sweeping the top over her lips, which soon parted under him. The kiss deepened and Draco instinctively moved against her again and again.   
  
Draco let go of her hands and buried his fingers in her hair, drawing her closer to him. He couldn't taste enough of her. Hermione's tongue slid across his, heightening his arousal. She responded to him in kind, even parting her legs slightly. He didn't know if she did it unconsciously and didn't care. Her hands were on the back of his neck, sliding down the back of his robe, moving around to the front to undo the clasp. Draco barely felt the black Slytherin cloak fall from his shoulders to the floor. Now her hands were on his, pulling him - where? He allowed her to take his hand and slide it from her hair to her breast. He was actually touching Granger's breast. Draco couldn't believe he was doing it and couldn't believe he was enjoying it - even more astounding was that Hermione had put his hand there herself.   
  
He moaned against her mouth as he cupped her breast and gently squeezed her. The only coherent thoughts in his head became "yes" and "more" as he kissed her again. He was rewarded with soft moans and whimpers as he pulled her hair to the side and brought his heated mouth to the delicate exposed skin of her neck. He wasn't prepared for the way she cried out at the new sensation, but held onto her and sucked and licked her skin. She shifted against him, her knees giving out just a bit. Draco stopped kissing her neck and slid down her body so that he was on his knees before her, panting heavily. He looked up at her and saw that she was just catching her own breath.   
  
Placing his hands at the fastening of her jeans, Draco looked up imploringly. "Hermione?" he said, his voice cracking. He didn't know why he was asking, or what he was asking. He just wanted to take off every stitch she had on and prove that he wasn't his father's bitch. The realization hit him like a wave of ice water. Was he doing this just to prove he didn't like sex with men? Was he using Hermione? It felt like it, but no - he wanted to know her, he didn't really hate her, not really. He'd just been told to hate her, to hate Mudbloods. Still, the idea that he was using her made him feel sick. The very thought of his father made him feel sick as well. He dropped his hands, now trembling, and moved away from her.   
  
"Draco?" she whispered in between breaths.  
  
"I'm - sorry," he said and bolted from the alcove, leaving his cloak at Hermione's feet. He needed to get away - far away from her, from his lust, from his memories. He ran all the way out to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and finally collapsed, out of breath. With his last remaining bit of strength he raised his head and released a primal scream into the wild. His cry of agony echoed through the trees and caused the great birds to take flight and tiny animals to scurry for cover. Then he laid his head to the earth and tried to weep, but no tears would come. 


	6. Chapter Six: Interrogation

Chapter Six: Interrogation  
  
  
  
For almost the entire next week, Draco completely avoided Hermione. He never looked up from his class work or chores, never uttered a word of complaint, and when he realized she hadn't reported him to the Headmaster, made himself almost invisible. He'd not give her any reason to have to tell Dumbledore about what had happened - and nothing would happen in future. He couldn't risk it. Though at times he desperately felt the need to go to her, to pour out his heart to her, he knew it was not possible. She couldn't understand - she'd think him dirty, tainted. She'd never want to touch him again.  
  
Draco grappled with these thoughts during every waking moment and his sleep was fitful at best. He was haunted by dreams of his father coming to Hogwarts, his father finding his room, his father locking the door and approaching his bed. He added extra covers to the already warm and cozy bed and made sure to wear pajamas every night, but nothing made him feel safe. He missed the carefree feeling of sleeping nude, of not being afraid that his father would commit unspeakable acts with him.   
  
  
  
Draco's stomach lurched and he ran to the loo just in time to be sick. Panting, he washed his face with cold water and brushed his teeth. He then cleaned up and changed his clothes and climbed back into bed. Sleep would not come; he felt so vulnerable, as if he were being watched. Pulling the covers up over his head, he hoped he wouldn't smother to death as he slept. This was now the only way he felt safe and unseen by the ever-present yet invisible gaze he felt was fixed on him. He drifted off many minutes later and when he woke, found that he'd twisted around so much in his sleep that he was tightly wound up in the sheets and blankets.  
  
After extricating himself from his bed, Draco showered and dressed for the day. It was the weekend, finally, and the day was his to do with as he pleased. He decided to start the day by asking a few choice questions of a certain Ravenclaw he'd seen in the Great Hall, one Morag MacDougal, a girl in his year. He'd spied her talking to Hermione at lunch every day for the past four days and figured she might know something of this "personal experiment" that seemed to occupy so much of Hermione's time. He would talk to her once she was alone.   
  
After breakfast, Draco went back up to his room and grabbed his Firebolt -- a gift from his father for services rendered - and headed for the Quidditch pitch. Even flying couldn't calm him like it used to, and he gave up after only a half hour in the air. He returned to his room, replaced the Firebolt and took another shower. The feel of the cool water running over his skin prompted fantasies of what it would be like to bring Hermione in with him, to soap her body, run his hands all over her. What was happening to him?  
  
As for the Gryffindor who'd gotten under Draco's skin, he didn't know if she ever looked at him because he kept his head down whenever they were in the same room together. He shot a few glances at her over lunch, but was careful not to be seen doing so. After their tryst in the alcove, Draco had returned to the scene the next day to retrieve his cloak, but it was gone. She must have kept it as a souvenir. Draco smirked inwardly; amused that she'd want a piece of him. He had the perfect excuse to go up to her, to talk to her, but he never took it. He stayed far from Hermione Granger - guilt over what he'd done had decided it: he was lower than a Mudblood. He'd been raped, and boys just don't get raped -- especially wizard boys who could have cast a spell of protection, a charm, anything. Boys with the kind of power Draco had didn't fall victim to physical abuse, they delivered it. To be bred as a fuck toy for his father shamed Draco more than he could bear.   
  
As much as he fought his own desires, he could not stop the thoughts from flooding his mind whenever he touched himself. A new fear took seed in his soul; what if he couldn't be with a girl - be with anyone, without thinking of what had happened? What if he became incapable of coming without such perverse and disgusting thoughts running through his head? And now, a new dilemma. He wanted to prove he didn't need Lucius and he wouldn't think of him while having sex. The problem was that the only girl he wanted, he couldn't have. He couldn't defile the only person he'd really started to like - the only person in Hogwarts who, perhaps, liked him as well.   
  
Draco caught up with Morag in the library just before dinner. He'd overheard her tell Professor McGonagall that she'd be studying that evening, and what easier place to find a Ravenclaw than the library?   
  
Morag sat, her face buried in a large textbook. Draco approached and sat down across from her at the wide mahogany table. It reminded him of his father's grand desk in the Malfoy study.   
  
"Morag," he said quite plainly, jolting the girl from her reverie. The book she'd been holding fell down onto the table with a loud slam.  
  
"Malfoy!" she nearly screamed.  
  
"Now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way, Morag, I wanted to ask you something."  
  
The girl picked up her book again, eyeing him with suspicion. "What is it?"  
  
"It's about Granger," he started.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"Do we know another Granger?" he asked sarcastically. When Morag didn't reply, he continued. "I need to know what she's been working on. The experiment. Surely you know about it - I've seen you talking to her in the Great Hall all this week."  
  
Morag hesitated. "She never told me about it," she said carefully.  
  
"Come on, Morag, do you expect me to believe that?"  
  
"You better believe it because it's the truth. That experiment is her big secret - think she'd tell just anybody? All I know is, it's a personal thing. That's all she says about it. 'It's personal'. She doesn't answer questions about it."  
  
"I know; I've tried asking her myself."  
  
"Then ask her again because I'm busy and I've told you everything I know." Morag stood up and dragged the heavy volume with her. Draco watched her struggle for a moment with a large bag of books and then she was gone.  
  
He wasn't daft enough to go running to Hermione to ask what she was up to, but he also wasn't beyond spying on her. A plan formed in his mind: he'd wait until after dinner and then follow Hermione to see where she went. He wished he'd had a convenient invisibility cloak like Potter had, but he did not. He'd just have to rely on his skills in stealth and his intuition. And his intuition told him Hermione would be seeing one Professor in particular that night.  
  
True to form and as predictable as Draco had thought, Hermione made her way straight to McGonagall's office. He stayed in the shadows along the corridor and creeped behind her, trying to remain unnoticed. He hadn't planned on McGonagall walking up the hallway and running into Hermione, but the near collision worked to his advantage because now Hermione and McGonagall headed urgently in the opposite direction and as he moved from pillar to alcove to statue to pillar he could hear everything they said.  
  
"Did you have a problem with your work, Miss Granger?" asked McGonagall, her robes billowing as she walked purposefully down the long hall.  
  
"Yes...my subject has been unavailable," Hermione answered.  
  
"For how long?"  
  
"Nearly a week now. I'm falling behind on my paperwork as well."  
  
"Is he missing?"  
  
"No, I think he's - hiding."  
  
"He'll have to emerge sooner or later."  
  
"I'm concerned about him, Professor," Hermione said.  
  
"In what way?"  
  
"He was behaving strangely before I lost sight of him and I'm worried that he's been hurt...or that he's lonely."  
  
"If he's lonely he will turn up."  
  
"I have to be able to observe him, though. Everything I'm doing depends on my evidence -"  
  
McGonagall suddenly stopped walking and faced Hermione. "Miss Granger, you are a brilliant student. This is your project and you are not being graded on it. As I said before I'll help all I can but I, like you, can do nothing at this point except advise you to take some time studying texts. Perhaps he needed time to himself. The absence is part of your evidence."  
  
Hermione looked displeased as she answered. "Yes, Professor. I'll study more."  
  
"Just be careful. You know he can be dangerous, and I don't want to see you hurt." McGonagall said this in a very motherly fashion, prompting Draco to wonder just whom they were talking about and why McGonagall was interested in this 'experiment' in the first place.  
  
"Thank you for agreeing to be my advisor, Professor. I value your wisdom," Hermione said, answering at least one of Draco's questions.   
  
"Of course," McGonagall said with a sigh, "if your work is a success, I may be asking YOU for advice one day."   
  
Hermione reddened and shook her head. "I doubt that, Professor McGonagall."  
  
"Which part? Your work being successful or your wisdom?"  
  
"Both," she replied.  
  
"You have nothing to fear on either count. Good evening, Miss Granger. Good luck with your work on Monday." The professor moved off down the hall, then stopped and turned. "And don't work on the weekends. It's important that you are well rested." With that, McGonagall turned and disappeared around a corner.  
  
Draco watched Hermione shuffle along the hallway, obviously deep in thought. Who was this person whom she'd been observing and what kind of reports was she writing? He stepped out from the alcove and followed Hermione slowly down the hall. She must have sensed his presence because she whirled around, wand drawn. Draco stopped in his tracks.  
  
"Granger," he said in a monotone.  
  
"Draco! What are you doing?"  
  
He smirked and looked around him, gesturing to the hall. "Walking down the corridor, same as you."  
  
"I didn't see you there," she said, sheathing her wand and pulling the books in her arms tightly to her chest.  
  
"'Course you didn't. You were facing that direction," he said, pointing. "Unless you've got eyes in the back of your head, how would you have seen me?"  
  
Hermione fidgeted. "Well...I've got to go," she began to walk away but Draco caught up with her and touched her arm.  
  
"Wait," he said. "I'll walk with you."  
  
"No, I'm perfectly fine to walk by myself, thanks."  
  
He couldn't let her get away that easily. "D-do you have my robe?" he blurted.  
  
This made Hermione stop and look at him. "Your robe?"  
  
Now it was Draco's turn to fidget. "Yes, you know the one I was wearing when we...when I...in the alcove? A few days ago..."  
  
"Maybe," she said carefully.  
  
Maybe?  
  
"What do you mean, 'maybe'?" he asked. If she didn't have it - who did?  
  
"You shouldn't have left it in the first place," she said, her voice taking on a somewhat whiny tone.   
  
"Oh, you mean YOU shouldn't have taken it off me?" he countered. Draco smiled smugly as Hermione's cheeks flushed. He expected her to become defensive, but oddly enough, she was in great form and volleyed digs right back at him.  
  
"I should have taken your trousers - then you'd be wandering around Hogwarts in your boxers."  
  
"How do you know if I wear boxers? I could be naked under here for all you know."  
  
"Well Malfoy, you ARE naked underneath your clothing," she said, rolling her eyes for emphasis.  
  
Rather than feel insulted, Draco was amused. He tried to hide the smile that tickled the corners of his mouth as he lobbed another remark back at her. "Now that we've established that, would you mind showing me to my robe? In your room, is it? Under your pillow?"  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Me? Sleep with your robe?"  
  
Draco nodded and grazed his lower lip with his teeth. Arms akimbo, he waited expectantly. "Well?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"My. Robe."  
  
"I. Don't. Have. It."   
  
"I think you do," he said, his confidence wavering. Maybe she really didn't have it. It finally dawned upon him that his wand was tucked into his robe as well. His wand had been missing all week and he hadn't thought twice about it! "Shite!" he spat violently.  
  
Hermione started. "What is it?"  
  
"My wand is in my robe," he said, anger welling up inside him. Whoever had his robe had his wand. Draco swirled to the wall and punched it, hard.  
  
"What are you doing? You're going to get hurt!" Hermione threw down her books and rushed over to where he stood, fuming. She grabbed his hand, now throbbing with pain, and gently inspected it.   
  
"Who is it you're experimenting on?" he asked, causing her to look up into his eyes.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I heard you telling McGonagall about your little experiment - something to do with a bloke, is it then?"  
  
"Malfoy, you don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Some bloke's not turned up in the past week and your plans are going to be ruined...what's it about, Granger?"  
  
"Draco you're talking bollocks, you know that? It's a personal experiment; I'm studying someone, yes, but it's nothing to do with you so just piss off." She dropped his hand and he immediately regretted opening his mouth.  
  
"Who're you studying, then?"  
  
"Let's not start this again, Draco. That's MY business."  
  
"Fine. Where's my robe and my wand?"  
  
"I already told you a hundred times!"  
  
Draco contained himself and with an air of calculated over-politeness asked, "Then can you at least tell me where I might begin looking for my missing items?"  
  
"Did you go back to the alcove?"  
  
"First place I checked. What did you do when I left?"  
  
"I just...left. After you. And why DID you leave so suddenly?   
  
He moved closer to her. "Did you want me to stay?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and was disappointed when she didn't blush or act embarrassed. Instead she raised her chin defiantly.  
  
"Might have proven interesting. I'd have found out one thing for sure, though."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"You're naked under your clothes."  
  
This struck Draco so funny that he could not prevent the genuine smile that spread across his face. Hermione began to walk away, obviously believing the conversation to be over. "Hermione," he called, his voice echoing in the hall.  
  
She stopped and looked back at him.  
  
"Would you help me look for my robe...and my wand?"  
  
Eyeing him up and down with a smirk of her own, Hermione answered, "Meet me outside the Gryffindor portrait hole in an hour. We'll find that wand of yours."  
  
Somehow, Draco didn't think she meant the implement he used for spells and charms. He ran back to his room to prepare for the night's hunt. He had no doubt she'd find his wand. 


	7. Chapter Seven: Allayed

Chapter Seven: Allayed  
  
Draco approached the Gryffindor portrait hole with his hands shaking. He had no real reason to be nervous but was anyway. The Fat Lady eyed him warily but said nothing as he waited. The portrait finally swung out and Hermione appeared.  
  
"Just on time," she said and began to walk down the corridor. "You coming?"  
  
Draco fell in step beside her. "Where are we going?"  
  
"To the Lost and Found."  
  
"The what?"  
  
"The Lost and Found. It's downstairs," she informed him.  
  
"But - what is a Lost and Found?"  
  
"It's where the House elves put all those items that students lose. Don't tell me you've never heard of it?"  
  
"I've never lost anything before."  
  
Hermione glanced at him and he thought he noticed a smirk play at the corner of her mouth. He narrowed his eyes. "Very funny," he said, not bothering to supply the joke.  
  
"I didn't say anything."  
  
"You were thinking it."  
  
She smiled. "I didn't say anything."  
  
They walked in silence for a while and Draco took the time to study Hermione's latest ensemble. She wore a skirt today, (thankfully) which afforded him a look at her bare legs - her skin was smooth and even in tone and he liked watching the way her calf muscles moved as she walked. He wished her skirt was a bit shorter, but if it were, she'd probably get a talking to from one of the Professors. The hem of her skirt grazed her knee and the color, a rich brown, set off her slight tan. His gaze roved up over her hip and he noted that the skirt clasped at her side. Her shirt was light and thin and he could just make out the outline of her bra beneath the pale yellow fabric. Her hair was pulled back with a clip that caught his eye. It had a tiny green dragon on it.  
  
"What's that in your hair?" he asked.  
  
Hermione jumped and her hand went immediately to her head. "What? Is it a spider?"   
  
"No, no - I was just curious about the clasp in your hair."  
  
"Oh, that," she said, sighing in relief. "I thought there was something crawling on my head."  
  
"It's a dragon," he said.  
  
"I know. A gift from a friend."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Why do you want to know?"  
  
"Just curious."  
  
"Ron's brother Charlie. He's a dragon trainer in Romania. I stayed with the Weasley's last summer and he'd come back to visit and brought all sorts of gifts. He'd remembered to bring "girly" things as he called them for Ginny and me. Very girly - a dragon," she said with a laugh.  
  
"Why would he give you a gift? Does he like you or something?"  
  
Hermione looked at him for a moment before continuing. "We're friends. The Weasley's are like family to me."  
  
"Weasel?"  
  
"No, Draco. The Weasley's. You can say their name you know - you won't turn into stone. You might however, turn into a nicer man, though. And I know you can't risk that." Coldness had crept into her voice and Draco recognized his stupid mistake. He didn't want to upset her, at least not until they'd found his belongings. No, he didn't want to upset her at all. The instinct to tear down was for the moment lying dormant somewhere inside him and he milked the absence of malice for all it was worth.   
  
She'd said it might make him a better man - not a boy, not a bloke or a lad. A man.   
  
"Weasley," he said, proving to her that he could do it.  
  
"I'm impressed," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Did it hurt?"  
  
"Ha."  
  
They rounded a corner and descended a flight of stone steps into darkness. Hermione raised her wand and cast Lumos to make the tip glow.  
  
"Why is it so dark here?"  
  
"I don't know; I've never come here at night before. Come on," she said, moving forward along the narrow corridor. At the end of the hallway they stopped in front of a massive door. She cast another charm on the door and it popped open.  
  
"You're pretty good at that," he said admiringly.  
  
"Thanks," she replied, entering the small room.   
  
Draco looked all around, amazed at the stacks of boxes lining the walls. Some were overflowing with clothing; others were sealed tightly and labeled with words like "Quidditch Pitch" and "Owlry". There was a box for just about every area of the castle and its surroundings. He doubted there'd be a box called "Random Alcove."  
  
"This could take a while," said Hermione, lighting a lantern she'd found on a small desk in the corner. She handed it to him and Draco took it and held it high.   
  
"How many students know about this place? I can't imagine many do if it's so full of - things."  
  
"I don't know. Dobby had told Harry about it just two years ago. Harry told me. I don't know what they do with all of this stuff. I guess it just sits here."  
  
Draco moved into a dark area and emerged with a Nimbus 2000 in his hand. "Someone lost a Nimbus 2000 and didn't go bloody mental?"  
  
Hermione shrugged.  
  
"Can I keep it?"  
  
"No!" she said, taken aback.   
  
"I was just asking."  
  
"We're here to look for YOUR things, not everyone else's."  
  
"It's not like anyone would notice, anyway."  
  
"They'd notice. You can't remove anything from this room that isn't yours. There's a special guarding spell on the room. That's why I could open the door so easily. It's not a true barrier."  
  
"So it wasn't your unlocking spell."  
  
"Only in part."  
  
Draco shook his head. "I can't find shite in here, Granger. Unless you see a box marked 'Alcove where Malfoy felt up Granger', we're wasting our time."  
  
Hermione bristled at the mention of their activities in the alcove and Draco felt a change in the air. The tension had risen and the small room became stifling and uncomfortable. She pushed past him and stepped back out into the hallway. He snuffed out the lantern, set it down and followed her. Neither spoke as they ascended the steps.  
  
A familiar voice stopped them in their tracks.  
  
"What are you two doing roaming the halls at this hour?" said Professor Snape, his greasy black hair falling into his eyes as he leered at them. "Malfoy," he said with an air of surprise, "I'd have expected better from you considering your Head Boy status."  
  
Hermione's mouth fell open. "You're Head Boy?"  
  
"He will be if he keeps his nose clean. And Miss Granger, wandering the halls after hours is not what we expect from a prospective Head Girl."  
  
"Yes, Sir," she said resignedly.  
  
"It's not her fault, Professor - she was helping me find something I'd lost."  
  
Snape grit his teeth. "Oh?"  
  
Hermione looked at Draco, alarmed. She shook her head slightly to say, "no". Draco furrowed his brow questioningly at her.  
  
"What have you lost, Malfoy?" asked Snape.   
  
"It wasn't important," Draco said. "We were just heading back to our rooms now."  
  
"I suggest you do so immediately. I will not allow this behavior to continue. If I catch either of you in these halls or anywhere outside your rooms after hours, even if it is the summer, I will report you and have you both sent home. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," Hermione and Draco answered.   
  
Snape shot them both a glance of hatred before rushing down the stairs to the Lost and Found room.  
  
Draco grabbed Hermione's hand and they ran down the hall as fast as they could, away from Snape. They stopped when they'd reached the door of the Slytherin common room. Draco breathlessly gave the password and was granted entrance.  
  
"I shouldn't be here," Hermione said, trying to pull her hand from his.  
  
"Come on - there aren't any Slytherin's in residence - none that I've seen anyway. Anyway, I have my own room." He tugged her into the common room and over to the door of the Head Boy's lavish bedroom.   
  
"Draco, if Snape catches me in here you will never lay eyes on that room again," she said resolutely.  
  
"Well where was I to go? Up to Gryffindor Tower? They'd slaughter me up there."  
  
"There are only a couple of Gryffindor boys here and they're leaving in three days time anyway."  
  
He pulled her into the room and shut the door. He'd had to get used to not using magic for the past week but found that it wasn't extremely difficult since he'd so rarely used his wand during summer holiday anyway. His work with Professor Sprout required only his two hands and a sharp eye, so he was well equipped there. Knowing that Hermione was more or less "armed" and he wasn't gave him a small thrill. She could have hexed him into next week for bringing her here but so far he'd managed to avoid any nasty confrontations. They were behaving almost as - friends. After calling idiots like Crabbe and Goyle "friend" for so many years, Draco found it pleasant to be shown the difference between the way someone acts when they're afraid of you and the way someone acts when they genuinely like you. While Hermione had never been truly terrified of him, Draco knew that he did pose a danger to her. If she befriended a Slytherin - the son of a Death Eater - what would everyone say? Harry Potter might even be so disgusted he'd push her away and out of their "inner circle". Even Weasel - Weasley - hated Draco so much that the mere thought of him being close to Hermione could drive the ginger haired boy to performing more accidental hexes on himself while aiming for Draco.   
  
Anyway, he'd been such a bastard to her over the years he wasn't sure she would offer him friendship even if he begged for it, which he wasn't quite ready to do yet. He was getting ahead of himself; perhaps she wasn't really a friend. He had no idea what her motives were. Maybe she was just using him. He could be her experiment, the project she'd been working on. A small voice in the back of his mind apparently fueled by lust insisted that it wouldn't be terribly bad to be experimented on by her.   
  
Hermione lit one of the torches along the wall with her wand, adding a soft flickering orange glow to the room.  
  
"I know you can't see it in this light, but everything in here is green, red and silver," he said, climbing the step stool and crawling to the middle of the bed. Hermione watched him from across the room. He sat down cross-legged and patted the spot next to him. "Come on up."  
  
"I'm not getting in your bed, Malfoy."  
  
"We're back to 'Malfoy' again? Don't you trust me?"  
  
"Not completely, no," she answered truthfully.  
  
"Fair enough. Take a seat wherever you feel most comfortable."  
  
Hermione looked around and didn't see a chair, so she tentatively moved toward the bed.  
  
"I promise I won't touch you," he assured her.  
  
She nodded her assent and climbed up the small stool to sit on the very edge of the massive bed. Draco moved further away from her to give her room and to show that he was serious. He lay on his back with his head at the foot of the bed and looked up at the red canopy.  
  
"Do you miss home?" she asked quietly.  
  
"The Manor you mean?" he asked, irritated that she'd asked such a thing. In doing so, she'd brought unbidden images of his room at the Manor to forefront of his mind. He felt the irritation grow into bitterness. "I hate it there."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I just do."  
  
"What are your parents like, when they're at home?"  
  
"They ignore me and have parties with important people. What about yours?"  
  
She smiled at the thought of her parents. "Dad sometimes reads dental journals and Mum plays a card game called Bridge with some of her friends. That's when they're home of course. They work together in the same office now, mending teeth."  
  
"Fascinating," he said sarcastically.  
  
"You did ask," she said, annoyed.  
  
"What do you do for fun when you're there?"  
  
"I read," she began.  
  
"I'd have never guessed that-"  
  
"Shut it, Malfoy," she said, trying to ignore his comment. "I read and listen to music and sometimes I dance in my room. Not often, though."  
  
"You DANCE?" he asked, lifting his head off the bed to see her more clearly.  
  
"What's wrong with that?" she asked defensively.  
  
He leaned up on his elbows and stared at the draperies. "Nothing, I guess. I just can't picture it."  
  
"I'm glad you can't. I usually dance naked."  
  
His eyes widened. "You DON'T!"  
  
"I do!"  
  
Draco closed his eyes and smiled. "Ah. Yes, NOW I can visualize you dancing," he said. The next thing he knew, a pillow smacked him in the face. "Hey! What was that for?"  
  
"You're being a prat."  
  
"I'm not. I'm a healthy seventeen year-old boy -er...man."  
  
"When did you turn seventeen?"  
  
"When school ended."  
  
"I never knew. Happy Birthday."  
  
"Thanks but I'd rather forget it; it doesn't bring pleasant memories."  
  
"Did your parents not celebrate it?"  
  
Sure they did, thought Draco. He imagined saying, "Father celebrated my sixteeth birthday by buggering me in my own bed to initiate me into the Malfoy Family Tradition and then fucked me every week after that until I went back to school. And how did you spend your summer, Hermione?" Instead, he just mumbled.  
  
"What?"  
  
"They just got me little gifts here and there-"  
  
"Like your Firebolt?"  
  
"Yes that was a gift but it wasn't for my birthday."  
  
"What was it for?"  
  
This was getting too close for comfort. He swiftly changed the subject. "What did you get for your birthday? And when is it?"  
  
"September. Last year Mum and Dad got me a grand cake and a gift credit at Flourish and Blotts."  
  
"That's all?"  
  
"That was enough. I love books as you have observed."  
  
Draco rolled onto his side and put his head on his hand, supporting his weight with his elbow. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked seriously.  
  
"Afraid of you? Remember Malfoy, I'M the one with a wand."  
  
"So I should be afraid of YOU?"  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"What would you do to me?" He was amused at where the conversation was going and how Hermione turned away from him in embarrassment.  
  
"I could hex you," she said, rubbing her arm absently.  
  
"Would you do that?"  
  
"If you threatened me I would."  
  
"And what would you consider a threat?"  
  
She moved up onto the bed and leaned back against the remaining pile of pillows. She was silent, so Draco took the opportunity to move onto his hands and knees and crawl up to her feet, his hands on either side of her legs. He kept his gaze trained on her eyes as he stealthily moved up her body, like a great cat in the wild approaching its mate. Only they were definitely in the wrong position for THAT, he thought ruefully. An image of Hermione on her hands and knees before him flashed into his mind and he felt his body respond. He hovered over her, enjoying the way she seemed to be holding her breath as he came closer and closer to her face. When his mouth was almost touching hers he whispered, "Would you consider this a threat, Hermione?"  
  
"You promised you wouldn't touch me," she said, her voice quavering but not with fear. Draco sensed that he'd struck a nerve and that nerve was most likely in her knickers.  
  
"And I HAVEN'T touched you," he whispered, his mouth so near to hers that his breath swept across her lips in an invisible kiss. He pulled back, looked into her eyes, and finally moved over so that he was sprawled next to her on the bed, his head resting on the pillows. He turned to look at her. She seemed to be in shock. "Are you all right, Granger?" he asked.  
  
"F-fine."  
  
"You look a little flushed."   
  
She swallowed hard, then yanked another pillow from the bed and threw it on top of him.  
  
"Granger, are you threatening me?" he asked coyly, pulling the pillow from his face. "That's the second pillow you've pelted me with tonight."  
  
"You haven't finished telling me about your house," she said, folding her arms across her chest and pursing her lips in a show of frustration that he intuitively knew was fake.  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"What do YOU do for fun? You asked me, now I get to ask you."  
  
"Is this some sort of Muggle game?"  
  
"We could play Twenty Questions if you like, but no, this isn't a game."  
  
"I'm not even going to ask what 'Twenty Questions' is. Why do you want to know so much about the Manor? It's big and expensive and cold. That's about all there is to it."  
  
"Do you have any hobbies?"  
  
"Riding my horse, Necromancer."  
  
"I thought you despised animals," she said, cocking her head curiously.  
  
"He's the only one I seem to get along with."  
  
"What's your room like there? Is it as big as this one?" she asked, surveying the vastness of the room they were in.  
  
"Mine's much bigger."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Mmm hmm."  
  
"And you don't like it?"  
  
"No. I don't."  
  
"My room's tiny; Mum and Dad are thinking of moving but I told them I'd probably be moving out on my own soon anyway and they shouldn't trouble themselves trying to accommodate me. It's my books, really. The entire basement's full of them. We have to hide them of course so none of my parents friends know about me being a witch."  
  
"Will you really move out on your own?"  
  
"Of course. Won't you?"  
  
"I don't think my father would allow it."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Because he can't have his fuck toy running too far away. "Because he'd...worry."  
  
"He doesn't seem the type to worry about you. I'm sorry to say it, but he doesn't strike me as a caring man at all. I know he's your father and you must love him-"  
  
"I hate him."  
  
Hermione stopped speaking and leaned in closer to Draco. "What?"  
  
"I hate the fucker. He's a piece of shite. He should be drawn and quartered."  
  
"That's a bit violent, isn't it?"  
  
"He deserves it," Draco spat, suddenly aware of the tears that had formed in his eyes which were about to spill over onto his cheeks. He sat up and turned away from her, trying to stifle a sniffle. He felt Hermione's hand on his back and jumped. She'd moved from the pillows to sit just behind him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Draco, I didn't mean to make you upset," she said softly.  
  
"You didn't. It's HIM."  
  
"What did he do?" She rubbed her hand in small circles on his back and Draco found it extremely comforting. "Did he hurt you?"  
  
"What the hell do YOU know about it?" Draco turned on her, his eyes flashing. Hermione withdrew her hand as if she'd touched something scalding hot. Her hand hung in the air between them and he grabbed it and held it tightly, then brought his forehead down and rested it in her palm. His entire body shuddered with the exertion of controlling the tears that so desperately wanted to surface. Not here, he willed them, not now. Not with her in the room. I won't allow it!  
  
Hermione placed her arm protectively over his shoulders and held him, allowing him to simply sit with her, rocking slightly. If she'd doubted that his distress was genuine, all doubt was surely erased when he looked up at her and she saw his tears reflected in the torchlight. He released her hand and she drew it up and caressed his face tenderly.  
  
  
  
Draco took a deep breath. "I better escort you back to your room," he said with finality. They climbed down off his bed and silently walked up to Gryffindor Tower, carefully avoiding Filch, Mrs. Norris and Snape. When Draco returned to his bed, he made sure to lie exactly where Hermione had reclined. He rested his head on the pillows where the faint scent of flowers still lingered. 


	8. Chapter Eight: Intercourse

Chapter Eight: Intercourse  
  
The next day found Hermione walking up to Draco in the Great Hall just after lunch. He'd overslept and missed her at breakfast where he'd meant to ask about his robe and wand and what her plan would be for finding them. He didn't even need to open his mouth before she had issued instructions.  
  
"Malfoy, come to Gryffindor Tower when you're finished here and stay outside the portrait hole until I come out. I have an idea where your belongings are."  
  
He'd nodded at her, then looked shiftily around to see if anyone was near enough to have heard her. The few people present were busy reading the Daily Prophet or chatting with each other. He was the only person at the Slytherin table. He'd suddenly lost his appetite and left half a plate of food still on the table as he extricated himself from the bench and hurried after her.   
  
Hermione was nowhere in sight, so Draco simply followed her instructions and headed for the Gryffindor common room's entrance. Upon reaching it only minutes later, he stood outside and waited. The Fat Lady fanned herself lazily, peering down at him with suspicion.  
  
"I'm not doing anything wrong," he told her flatly.  
  
"I didn't say you were," she replied haughtily.   
  
A few minutes later the portrait opened and Hermione peeked out. "That was fast," she said with a grin. "Come in."  
  
"Come in?" he squeaked. "Aren't we going to look for my things?"  
  
Hermione pushed the portrait open a bit more and gestured for him to follow her. He slipped past before the Fat Lady could protest and Hermione pulled the door shut behind them.   
  
"What are we doing here?"  
  
"Finding your wand. Are you totally daft?" Hermione pulled a face at him as if he should have known this was the first place one should logically look for a Slytherin's belongings.   
  
He followed her into the cozy room, noting that they were alone. "Aren't there any other Gryffindors here?"  
  
"There are a couple of boys in their dorms but we're not going there. Follow me."  
  
"Where are we going?" he asked as she led the way up a swirling stone staircase.  
  
"Just come on. And be quiet." She reached her hand back to him and he took it, allowing her to pull him along.   
  
They approached the door to the girls' dorm and Hermione had to give him a good yank before he would follow. He kept expecting a gaggle of girls to come swarming out, find him there, and run off screeching into the night. Instead, he found the dorm to be as empty and silent as the common room.  
  
"What are we doing-" He was silenced by Hermione's finger touching his lips. The innocent gesture turned seductive in Draco's mind. He was in her room, where she slept - where she had her knickers hidden...somewhere. And she'd brought him here, no, dragged him.  
  
"Shh."  
  
"But no one's here," he protested.   
  
"Malfoy, just shut it," she said, her eyes glittering as she walked through a shaft of sunlight. To his utter amazement, Hermione gently pulled him into her arms and embraced him. He didn't know what to do with his hands for a moment, hovering them over her back before finally resting his head next to hers and breathing in the scent of her hair, his arms holding her fast. They stood like that for some time, silent, listening to each other's breathing and heartbeats.   
  
Draco closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel...safe. For the first time in a long time, he was able to let his guard down. Hermione trusted him enough to be alone with him in her room, in Gryffindor Tower. She not only trusted him but she wanted to be with him, and this thought filled him with an exhilarating feeling of hope.   
  
She moved closer to him, held him more tightly, and sighed into his chest.   
  
"Hermione?" he whispered into her hair.  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"What are we doing?"  
  
She didn't answer right away. He felt her hands slide down his back and move around between their bodies, lingering at his belt. "Finding your wand," she said, looking down where her fingers now played with his belt buckle.  
  
Does she want to--? No, she can't, thought Draco.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked, nervously looking around. "What if someone comes?"  
  
"I'm hoping at least one of us will," she said, looking up at him without mirth.  
  
She was serious about this! "Hermione...we can't...I..."  
  
His ineloquence was silenced as she stood on tiptoes and kissed his neck. All rational thought left him as the blood rushed from his head down to his loins. Hermione's tongue played over his skin, sending delicious shivers all the way down to his toes. He didn't care why she was doing it, all that mattered was that she was here with him, and she wanted to do it. He didn't have to ask her, coerce her, force her. For whatever reason she had, Hermione Granger wanted to be with him intimately and Draco Malfoy was not about to analyse the situation.   
  
He pulled back and held her face between his hands, then kissed her mouth gently. "Hermione," he whispered, studying her face. And then, the question he couldn't let go of- "Why?"  
  
"I feel something from you...something about you," she said, and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Something good." She kissed every area of skin as it was exposed, then peeled off his shirt completely and let it fall to the floor.   
  
Bed, Draco thought...where's the bed? He peered around the room and moved Hermione to the nearest bed. The back of her knees touched the mattress and she sat on its edge, pulling Draco down on top of her.   
  
***  
  
"Draco," she sighed, kissing his hair.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said again, not sure why.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Everything."  
  
"Me too," she murmured against his cheek.  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
"I took your robe...and your wand. I lied to you."  
  
Draco looked up at her. "You did? Where are they? Why did you lie?"  
  
"I took them because I wanted them and I lied because you knew it."  
  
"What did you want them for?"  
  
Hermione reached around under the pillow and pulled out the black garment. It was her bed, after all. Draco was thankful for that - at least he wouldn't be hearing the screams of an unsuspecting Gryffindor finding the remnants of their lovemaking in the student's bed.  
  
She showed him the robe and he could only smile. "You are daft, Granger," he said.  
  
"I suppose I am. Why anyone would want your robe in their bed, I'll never understand - even if I'm the guilty party."  
  
"Why you would want ME in your bed I'll never understand," he replied, kissing her lips gently.   
  
"You will."  
  
"I can't wait for you to explain," he said, kissing her neck.   
  
"It's complicated."  
  
"Things are always complicated when it comes to you, Hermione."  
  
"I can't deny it," she said, watching him. "I've never done this before..."  
  
"Never done what? Sex?"  
  
She laughed. "Well - this was my first time for that, yes. Couldn't you tell? Was I that bad?"  
  
"It's not you," he said, searching for a way to tell her it was also his first time. But it wasn't - not really. He'd already had sex, just not the kind of sex he'd had tonight. "I just didn't...I mean I haven't..."  
  
"Oh," she said, and left it at that.   
  
"You weren't bad at all, Hermione," he assured her. "You were too good in fact." He stared into her eyes.   
  
So...is this love? The thought came from nowhere and he didn't have the strength or will to fight it. Perhaps, he answered himself. Perhaps it is.  
  
A/N If this chapter seems short, it's because I had to excise the NC-17 rated bits. For the full, NC-17 version, go to AdultFanFiction.net -- I'm there under SkyDunsmore or you can search for "Fragments of a Malfoy." 


	9. Chapter Nine: Reap

Chapter Nine: Reap  
  
Two full days passed without Draco seeing Hermione anywhere on the school grounds even though he looked for her high and low. He couldn't get the memory of her out of his thoughts; they drove him to distraction. Only hours before he'd almost snipped the tip of his finger off while cutting leaves in the greenhouse. Professor Sprout was not amused and banished him from the greenhouse for the remainder of the day lest he damage any delicate plants. Now he wandered into the Great Hall, hoping to see the familiar head of bushy brown hair at the Gryffindor table. It was empty. Draco spun on his heel and exited the hall with a dramatic swish of his robes. He'd had to wear his spare robes since he'd let Hermione hold onto the one's she'd taken. He made sure to take his wand back, though. She wouldn't need that. In return for the robes, Hermione had bestowed upon him one of her golden earrings. He didn't have pierced ears so he kept it in his pocket, fingering the stud from time to time.  
  
Everything felt different; Draco was calmer than he'd been in months. He wasn't feeling inclined to start fights or hurt anyone. And those thoughts of Lucius had failed to plague Draco's mind for at least a full day now. However, all was not well. A new fear had crept into Draco's soul - the fear that he would revert to his old ways. He had only just begun to regret some of the evil he'd done in his life and was now afraid that whatever had him in its grip before would mourn the loss and hunt him down. Was he truly free? Could one night - no, a few days of flirting with Granger cure him of his ills? He knew it could never be that simple but was more than happy to push away bad feelings and memories to live in the moment. And the moment was fine, for as long as it lasted.  
  
Presently, Professor McGonagall caught up with Draco in the hallway outside her office as he hurried past. He heard her voice and stopped.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, I wanted to know if you'd seen Miss Granger anywhere?"  
  
"No, Professor," he said. "I was er...just looking for her, myself."  
  
"We had an appointment and she missed it. It's very unlike her." McGonagall sounded very worried. Draco watched the older woman wring her hands as he took in the depth of the situation. Hermione would never miss a meeting with a teacher - there was no way. Concern rose in Draco's heart.  
  
"Is there anything I can do, Professor?" he asked sincerely.  
  
"If you do see her, please let her know that I would like to see her immediately."  
  
McGonagall rushed off down the hall as Draco thought about where he could look for Hermione that he had not already tried. He hoped she wasn't angry with him for what had happened. Maybe she was too ashamed to face anyone.  
  
Draco visited every area he could think of that afternoon: the library, the Great Hall, all of the classrooms, the alcove - even the Lost Property room. There was no sign of Hermione anywhere. She could be in her room, Draco thought, and dashed off to the Gryffindor portrait hole.   
  
"Do you know if Hermione Granger's inside?" he asked the Fat Lady in as cordial a voice as possible.  
  
"Hermione Granger?"  
  
"Yes, Hermione. She's the only female Gryffindor staying here right now, surely you must have noticed whether she came in or out."  
  
"No need to get snippy, young man. I've seen her."  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"She's not inside, that's all I can tell you. Do you think I'm lax in my duties? Do you think I sleep all day? That's what I've heard - rumours about the students and faculty complaining about me...I watch every single student, I do!" The Fat Lady's voice rose in indignation.  
  
Draco spun on his heel and left the Fat Lady complaining to herself about not being appreciated. He headed to the greenhouse to see if Hermione had spoken to Professor Sprout. He was about to open the door to leave the school when a voice laced with viciousness echoed in the vestibule.   
  
"Draco."  
  
Draco's blood ran cold. He stopped in his tracks, suddenly rooted to the spot.   
  
"So good of you to come down to meet me, Draco. I thought we might have to send for you. Your mother and I have come to bring you back to the Manor. I was about to see Dumbledore but now that you're here, I don't think that will be necessary."   
  
Lucius's voice wreaked havoc on Draco's emotions. That tone, the same persuasive, almost seductive tone that could make murder seem sweet poured over Draco like ice cold water. He turned to face his father.  
  
"Father," he managed against a throat that felt filled with cotton and a mouth that wouldn't quite form the words. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Why, I just told you, silly boy. I've come to take you home. I've got some surprises waiting for you that I'm sure you will enjoy. Rather, we will enjoy."  
  
"I-can't go home," Draco stammered, inching toward the door. His father stood only a few feet away and Draco was sure if he bolted for it that Lucius could catch him in one stride.   
  
An evil laugh emerged from Lucius. "Of course you're coming home; we've missed you."  
  
Father and son locked eyes and Draco was frightened by what he saw in the grey steel of his father's gaze. "I-I-I'm not done with my project yet," he said. "Dumbledore won't want me to go yet...I have to make up for my classes..."   
  
Lucius sighed and removed the black gloves that covered his hands. "Very well, if you must make such a fuss, I will see the Headmaster." Lucius turned to go, then noticed Draco hadn't followed him. He looked back and ordered his son to come along. Draco stepped tentatively away from the door, the thought of Hermione in the back of his mind now. He followed Lucius at a length all the way to Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore granted them entrance and eyed Draco as the two Malfoy's entered. Draco swallowed hard.  
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore." Lucius greeted the old wizard with a flourish and bow.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore. "What brings you to Hogwarts?"  
  
"It is my son of course. His mother and I wish him to come home now. Our obligations are fulfilled and we have time to devote to him."  
  
"You understand that Draco has been catching up on failed classes and that if he leaves without completing his work he will have to repeat his sixth year, do you not, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
Draco marveled at how calmly Dumbledore spoke to Lucius. He made sure to stand as far from his father as possible to show Dumbledore that he did not want to go home with him.  
  
Lucius rolled his eyes. "Can't we come to an agreement on that count, Dumbledore? After all, Draco is a gifted student; I'm sure he can make up those classes once the new year begins."  
  
"I have already placed him with Professors who are on hand here over the summer and he has been working hard on his studies. I do not wish to interrupt his progress at this time, Mr. Malfoy. Surely you can see where this would impair his abilities in the coming year, especially--" Dumbledore paused, and Draco looked up at him. "-since his success with these courses will earn him the status of Head Boy. I am sure you would not want to hinder that progression. It is a very high honor."  
  
Lucius was silent for a full minute and appeared to be chewing on his tongue. "Very well," he finally hissed through clenched teeth. He looked over at Draco with intense hatred. "The boy will complete his studies."  
  
Draco realized he'd been holding his breath. As Lucius stalked past him he leaned down to Draco and whispered, "Once you are Head Boy, we will have our own little celebration, won't we, Draco?" Then he left the room without so much as a goodbye to either of its occupants.  
  
Dumbledore's voice broke Draco from his reverie. "You are dismissed, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
Draco looked up at the Headmaster and Dumbledore nodded his head slightly at the boy. Draco nodded back and left the room, careful not to follow to quickly lest he run into his father again. He was safe for the time being, but once he was done with his studies - it wouldn't take a whole summer to complete the few courses he needed to make up. What would he do in those few weeks in between the extra courses and the beginning of seventh year?  
  
With Lucius gone, Draco's thoughts settled once again on Hermione. Where was she? He ran to the greenhouse and scared Professor Sprout nearly out of her wits upon entering.  
  
"Mister Malfoy! What do you mean coming in here like that? I could have been repotting the Mandrakes and you'd be stone dead right now! You know better than to-"  
  
"I'm sorry Professor," Draco said breathlessly, "but Professor McGonagall has asked me to inquire about Hermione Granger. Have you seen her?"  
  
"I daresay I haven't. Is she ill?"  
  
"We can't find her."  
  
"Oh my," said Professor Sprout with a worried look. "How long has she been missing?"  
  
"She was supposed to see Professor McGonagall today. I haven't seen her in two days, myself."  
  
Professor Sprout paced up and down the greenhouse in front of Draco, deep in thought. "It may be that she's in the Forbidden Forest, though I warned her not to go there without someone accompanying her. I'd have gone with her myself but I had work to finish. She is such a smart girl but too impulsive."  
  
"What would she be doing in the Forest?" A sinking feeling washed over Draco and he thought about the mysterious and dangerous creatures that inhabited the wood on the edge of Hogwarts.  
  
"It's that project she's been working on."  
  
"What's the project involve? She wouldn't tell me."  
  
"Only Minerva - Professor McGonagall knows the details of it but Miss Granger did come to me with questions that other day. I didn't think anything of it but then I remembered that she was-" She paused and eyed Draco as if sizing him up and deciding whether he was worthy of trust.  
  
"She was what?" Draco was becoming annoyed at Sprout's hedging and hawing.   
  
"She was going to go to the forest. I didn't think she would dare it on her own; she too smart for such stupidity."  
  
Draco turned and left the greenhouse in an angry huff. He didn't care to listen to Sprout's flustered excuses. Hermione missing, the Forbidden Forest, alone. Not a good combination. Immediately Draco ran to his room and grabbed his Firebolt. In a heartbeat he was flying over the forest looking down at the treetops, looking for any signs of movement. He caught a glimpse of a centaur here or there but could not see well enough through the leaves to identify Hermione even if she was down there somewhere. Without the slightest hesitance, Draco flew toward Hagrid's hut on the edge of the wood and advanced over the trees from that point. If she came out here, he thought, she probably went to Hagrid's first.   
  
He landed just a ways into the forest, keeping his grey eyes opened widely and his ears alert to any sounds. All he heard was the soft cooing of birds and the gentle rustle of the swaying branches and leaves as a mild breeze passed through the trees. He wanted to shout Hermione's name but it was caught in his throat for fear of arousing any sleeping beasts. Annoyed with himself for leaving so impulsive, Draco tried to ascertain just what Hermione would want to come into the wood to gather or observe. He stepped carefully over dried twigs and dead leaves but still made a soft crunching sound with each footfall.   
  
Suddenly Draco felt himself being dragged backwards. He lost his balance and fell into the thing that had grabbed him. A hand came up over his mouth to stifle his cry and he twisted in its grip to identify the attacker.  
  
"Shhh!" she hissed.   
  
"Hermione!" he said against her hand. They were both on the floor of the forest now and Hermione pulled him over to hide under an overhanging rock. "What's this?" he asked once she'd freed him.   
  
"Be quiet!" she said again, her brow furrowed with worry.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he whispered angrily. Here he was rescuing her and all she could do was tell him to shut it? That was gratitude.  
  
"Hiding, what do you think?" she answered testily.  
  
"From WHAT?"   
  
"That!" Hermione pointed toward a looming figure a few feet away.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Draco grabbed his wand and cast Rictusempra on the creature, leaving it writhing on the ground in a fit of giggles. He grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her out from under the rock.  
  
"Wait! My wand! I dropped it over there..." Hermione lunged back and grabbed her wand as Draco followed her, ushering her towards his broom.  
  
"Come on, let's get out of here."   
  
They boarded the broom and Draco flew them up and out of the forest, clearing the trees and heading back to Hagrid's hut. Once safely there, Draco landed and proceeded to lash out at Hermione for her stupidity.  
  
"For someone so intelligent you sure can be stupid, Granger. You could have been killed in there. What were you thinking?"  
  
"I had to get something for my experiment. In fact, I have to go back in because I need a specific plant cutting and-"  
  
"I'm not letting you go back in there," Draco said forcefully. After all he'd done to get her out, she was going to prance back IN? No way.  
  
"I have to get it today, Malfoy."  
  
"Oh so it's 'Malfoy' now, is it?" Draco disguised his hurt with a nasty tone. He chastised himself for having trusted a Mudblood. Of course she wasn't on his side - she didn't really love him. What had he been thinking? It was all just a game. Why she slept with him was a mystery but he had a feeling it had something to do with her little experiment. "What are you playing at, Granger?" He made sure to enunciate her last name quite clearly.  
  
"I'm not playing at anything; I just need to get a cutting for a potion I'm making-"  
  
"What's the potion for?"  
  
"It's a calming potion."  
  
Draco immediately grew suspicious. Professor Snape had dozens of relaxation and calming potions - why wouldn't she just go to him for one? "And you couldn't go to Snape because?"  
  
"It's not the same as the ones he has. This one has other properties - the major one is having a calming effect on the subject."  
  
"Who's your subject?" He drew closer to the truth and could tell by the way she bristled that she didn't want to answer. He could suspect why. "Come on, you can tell me. After all, we've been intimate." Draco wiggled his eyebrows suggestively but sneered at Hermione as usual. "Or was that just part of your little experiment as well?"   
  
Hermione turned away but not before Draco saw the hurt expression on her face. He'd said the wrong thing.  
  
"How could you think that?" she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.  
  
Instead of feeling sympathetic, Draco became incensed at himself for making her cry and angry with her for not confiding in him what she'd been working on. If she'd have just told me, I wouldn't have said anything, he thought. Lashing out at Hermione came so naturally Draco didn't even think to stop himself. "Think what? That you're using me somehow? That's what it is, isn't it? You slept with me for some sick and twisted experiment!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Draco forced her to look at him. "What do you know, Granger? Spit it out. It's written all over your face."  
  
"What is?" she sobbed, shaking.  
  
"You know about my father, don't you." It wasn't even a question - Draco was sure Dumbledore or someone else had told this Mudblood what had happened to him. The shame he'd suppressed rose to the surface and washed through him like a tidal wave. He felt his face grow hotter and could tell by the look in Hermione's eyes that his own gaze frightened her. He hadn't meant to be so harsh but he was a Malfoy. He couldn't always control himself - she'd seen that when he bedded her, hadn't she? Shouldn't she -- the girl at the top of every class - have known better than to get involved with him? It was too easy to place the blame on Hermione, and that is exactly what Draco did as he stood there grasping her arms so hard that she whimpered that he was hurting her. He eased his grip but didn't let her go. He wasn't finished yet.  
  
"Your father?" Hermione choked through her tears. "I don't understand, Draco. What do you mean?"  
  
"Don't play dumb, Granger," he spat. "You know what I'm talking about."  
  
"I swear I don't!"  
  
"You're using me just like him. All of you - Snape, McGonagall - Dumbledore. You're all in it together, aren't you? I don't know why Dumbledore even let me stay here since he's so intent on ruining my life anyway. It doesn't matter what grades I get or what classes I make up - I still have to go home to him, don't I? And you know what will happen then, don't you, you little bitch?"  
  
Hermione looked as if he'd slapped her across the face and for a brief second Draco regretted ever saying anything about it. In that moment, he doubted she really did know what had been going on at Malfoy Mansion or about his birthday "present". "Draco..." she began. Her brown eyes were wide open and Draco felt he might drown in the worry he saw in them. Maybe she wasn't playing. "Does your father hit you?"  
  
"Hit me?" He laughed out loud at the suggestion. "I wish he did, Granger. Oh no, it's much worse than that. I'd rather be beaten bloody, believe me. Stop acting like you don't know and do us both a favour. I'm sick of these games."  
  
"I'm not playing a game, Draco!"  
  
"And stop calling me Draco as if you know me. You don't know me at all. I'm a nightmare, little girl. I'm no prince on a white horse come to rescue you - I'm the dragon." He dug his nails into her arms until she winced with pain. "I'm the one you need to be rescued from. I'm disgusting, don't you see it? I can't ever get clean - I can't ever-" Draco choked back a sob that started in his chest and made its way to his throat. It took every bit of willpower to hold it down. Suddenly he let Hermione go and pushed her away towards the school. "Get out of here, Granger. I don't want to see you and I'm sure you don't want to see me. I'll be going home soon anyway. It was all a fucking lie - just leave me alone."  
  
Draco watched Hermione as she stared at him in complete shock.   
  
"Are you deaf? I said get the hell out of here, Granger!"  
  
He expected she'd turn and run to the school in a fit of tears but Hermione Granger did something Draco never thought she'd do. She looked to the forest and broke into a dead run, flitting past him like a gazelle, much too quick to reach out and catch. She ran as if the devil were after her.  
  
Draco broke out of his own shock and with a muttered curse, followed her into the dark wood. 


End file.
